


Dream About Fires

by aspen_celeri



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Jedi Academy (Star Wars), F/M, Force Dyad (Star Wars), Force Visions, Foundling Rey, Good Parent Han Solo, Growing Up Together, Luke Does Not Ship It, Slow Burn Rey/Ben Solo, So Slow It's Almost a No-Burn, Soft Ben Solo, The Force Ships It, Young Ben Solo, Young Rey
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:01:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 65,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23058931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aspen_celeri/pseuds/aspen_celeri
Summary: When Han Solo travels to Jakku in search of the Millennium Falcon, he doesn't expect that his actions will irrevocably alter the fate of the galaxy. For Rey, the home and the family she has always dreamed of. For Ben Solo, a guiding light. But with darkness rising on all fronts, will the united dyad be enough to bring balance to the Force? AU reylo.
Relationships: Rey & Ben Solo, Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 47
Kudos: 146





	1. A Fortuitous Encounter

Chapter 1: A Fortuitous Encounter

"I'm half way gone

Sleepless, I'm battle worn

And you're all I want

So bring me the dawn."

-Need the Sun to Break, James Bay

* * *

_23 ABY_

* * *

When Han Solo first set foot on Jakku, it felt as though he had stepped back in time by over nineteen years. The tilted glare of two suns, the windswept dunes, and his already parching thirst brought back a memory steeped in nostalgia—Tatooine. He still remembered his first glimpse of Luke Skywalker, scruffy blond hair ruffled and wide blue eyes searching the cantina with hapless innocence. Indeed, it felt like another life now. Everything that had come after was like the rush of hyperspace, passing him by in a flurried stream. But the moment when his life had changed forever was cemented at the forefront of his mind, right beside his first glimpse of Leia and the shape of Ben's small, newborn fists. The moment he turned from being a smuggler into something more. _A hero. A husband. A father._

Han gave his head a shake to dislodge the distracting thoughts. With every passing year his sentimentality grew. _Soon I'll be capable of nothing but reliving the good old days over a bottle of Corellian whiskey with Chewie,_ he thought disparagingly, letting his gaze wander sideways to his ever-present companion.

As if sensing his thoughts, Chewie let out a muffled rumble. _I know._

"Alright," Han said, rubbing his palms together. "Niima Outpost is just on the other side of these dunes. If our informant is to be trusted, the Falcon should be down there. Shouldn't be hard to find, but keep your head down until we have eyes on her. As much as it pains me to say it, I'm getting too old for blaster work. I would love to walk in and walk out without getting shot at."

Chewie grumbled softly in complaint. You're _the one who always starts something._

"Save it," Han ordered with his usual brusqueness.

The two companions began the arduous hike away from their small, two-man cruiser. Loose sand shifted underfoot, hindering their ascent. Chewie made it to the ridgeline first and scanned the horizon, barking softly.

"Out in the open?" Han panted, using his hands as leverage against his knees to stagger the last few steps. "What idiot thought to leave the Falcon sitting out in the desert? Don't they know the kind of damage sandstorms can do to a ship? This place really is a backwater."

Chewie rumbled in agreement.

"Alright, change of plans," Han said, catching sight of the Falcon, resting, as Chewie had said, in the open desert on the outskirts of Niima. "Let's just take her. There's no one around and she's right there—ripe for the picking."

Chewie reached for his bowcaster, voicing his assent.

"No, no, not yet," Han said, holding out a hand. "Let's just walk up, nice and peaceful-like. But be on the lookout."

The duo slipped and clambered down the hillside towards the outpost, where the familiar hull of the Falcon was visible despite a few tarps strung over the cockpit windows and side turrets. Unlike Tatooine, Jakku was quiet. The outpost seemed nearly empty, with only a few straggling lifeforms making their way through the desolate streets. Roughly rigged tents and sun canopies made up the majority of the architecture, interspersed by a few squat adobe huts that seemed to draw the majority of the activity.

"Where is everybody?" Han asked, rubbing the back of his neck to remove the itchy grains of sand that had found their way into his collar.

Chewie let out a low, melancholy note. _Scavenging._

Han glanced at his companion in surprise. "You've been here before?"

Chewie nodded, paw hovering near his bowcaster. _Once._

"Well it gives me the creeps," Han decided. "Let's get the Falcon and get out of here."

The two moved briskly but confidently towards the ship, doing their best not to draw attention. As they neared the craft, Han raised a hand overhead to stroke along the Falcon's starboard flank. Sand rained down around him.

"Look at this mess," he said in disgust, gesturing expansively. "Clearly these junk scavengers don't know how to take care of a ship after they've stolen it."

The two boarded the Falcon through a rear port rather than risk drawing attention by opening the main shuttle doors. Chewie went first, clambering nimbly up the ladder and letting himself into the circular space that had been his home for so many years. Han followed, pausing momentarily to brush sand off his knees before surveying his surroundings.

"Well at least they haven't messed with the interior," he conceded finally, heading for the cockpit. "Let's see if they've left the controls undamaged. We can nip over to the cruiser once we get her in the air. Leia will be pissed if we leave it here."

Trusting Chewie to explore the rest of the ship for damage, Han slid into the comfortable pilot's chair. He let his hands run over the controls, which were worn smooth with age and use. His gaze drifted to the main ignition and he groaned. "Damn it, Chewie," he called over his shoulder. "They've got an ignition lock on her. We're going to need the decryption key."

Chewie let out an angry roar, which Han thought was a slight overreaction, given the circumstances. "What's going on back there?" he asked, sliding out of his seat and moving towards the rear of the ship. "Chewie, come on out, we need to figure out this ignition lock. Whoever left the Falcon here must have the decryption key."

One of the grates had been lifted from the floor, and Chewie's bowcaster lay beside the gap. Grumbling, Han lowered himself stiffly belowdecks in search of the Wookie. It didn't take him long to find his friend, who stood with his back to Han, gesticulating wildly and making sounds of discontent.

"What is it now?" Han asked irritably. "We can fix whatever it is later, right now we have to find that damn…" he trailed off as Chewie turned, revealing a glimpse of what lay before him, "…key."

* * *

When Rey first heard voices in the main cabin, she was certain that Plutt had finally found her bolt hole in the belly of the ship. Despite her master's warning to stay away from the old junk-heap of a cruiser, Rey had been oddly drawn to it. It felt home-like in a way, the kind of transport that she imagined her parents returning on.

Although it had been stripped of most identifying material when it had initially come into Plutt's possession, she had combed the ship for clues to its origins during her time living aboard it. The shelf near her cramped sleeping space was lined with small treasures she had discovered—a broken holo-projector; a cracked helmet with an orange face-screen; two dolls made of twisted bits of wire, spare parts, and cloth; and a watch that had stopped working.

She had chosen the spot because of the letters she found carved in childlike script into the wall near knee-level. When she curled up in her alcove, the three letters watched over her like three guardian stick-men. She had learned to read in the time before Plutt, from a woman with soft hands and smooth hair. She knew what the letters spelled—BEN—but she wasn't sure what they meant. A name perhaps? She had thought about carving her own letters under them, but she worried that whoever had carved the first letters might not appreciate it, if they ever came back for their ship. Instead she had leaned a bit of scrap metal against the wall and carved the days into it, a tally for each. She had marked only one hundred and eighty-four days, but already she felt more attached to this home than she had been to the discarded AT-AT that had served as her previous shelter.

Rey had also found a broken armband in the alcove—one woven of fine, supple strands of leather and decorated with dark beads. She had painstakingly repaired the damage using the spare bits available to her—mostly broken strands of wire that weren't valuable to Plutt, but were a virtual treasure-trove for her clever hands. She wore the bracelet around her left bicep now. It was clearly meant as a wristband, but with her skinny arms it would have fallen off immediately. Besides, wearing the bracelet on her upper arm meant that she could disguise it beneath her arm-wrappings and avoid thievery from Plutt or one of the other scavenger children.

As the voices above grew louder, Rey recognized that only one of them was human. The other spoke in rippling roars and grunts. The effect, she thought, should have been frightening, but instead made her feel the same way the ship made her feel—safe. It wasn't similar to any of the other languages she knew, and she wondered fleetingly whether she ought to learn it as she had learned all of the droid languages and local dialects on Jakku.

The human voice faded, leaving behind the shuffling tread of large feet. Rey dared peek out of her alcove for a moment, hoping to catch a glimpse of the intruder. If it was one of Plutt's men she would hide until he was gone, but the strange language made her feel that this intruder was not from Niima Outpost at all. Through the checkered grate of the ceiling she saw a flash of movement—large feet and shaggy…fur? Intrigued she peered out further, dislodging a hydrospanner from her scavenging satchel. The tool clanged against the floor grates and the alien above her froze, letting out a surprised grunt. Snatching up the hydrospanner, Rey recoiled into her hiding place and held her breath. Her palms were slippery with sweat and her heart thundered against her ribs.

The sound of metal sliding on metal announced the stranger's entrance to the lower decks. It hadn't even had to look around for the hatch, hinting at a thorough knowledge of the ship's layout. Could this alien have been the owner of the craft and the writer of her three stick-man letters? Rey sunk back even further, not willing to risk her safety on a hunch.

The alien let out soft crooning noises as it slowly circled the maintenance compartment. From where she crouched, Rey admired the thick fur that covered the majority of its body—it was tawny in some places, gold in others, but mainly a deep, rich brown. It looked tantalizingly soft. A flicker of its profile showed a short muzzle, dark eyes, and pointed white teeth that flashed in the dim light when it opened its mouth to speak again. She still wasn't sure what the creature was saying, but she was certain it was searching for the source of the noise. Closer and closer it came, until its back nearly pressed into Rey's shadowy alcove.

Suddenly a loud voice broke the silence. "Damn it, Chewie! They've got an ignition lock on it. We're going to need the decryption key!"

The alien spun abruptly at the sound of the voice, and its eyes alighted on Rey. Trembling in fear as she realized she was trapped, the small girl raised her hydrospanner defensively and let out what she hoped was a fierce growl.

The furry alien bellowed in surprise, staggering back a step. His great head—for she was now fairly certain that the creature was a male Wookie—swiveled from side to side sharply, as if searching for more small humans crouched in the corners. Finding none, he redirected his attention to Rey, taking a shuffling step forwards and inclining his head.

Terrified at the sight of his sharp canines, Rey took a swing with her hydrospanner, which the intruder barely avoided by springing backwards. He let out another distorted roar of discontent which, to Rey's amusement, sounded like a confused shout of _what did you do_ that _for?_

"Stay back!" she warned, swiping the hydrospanner at him again. "Or I'll—I'll tell Plutt you're here to steal his ship!" She wasn't entirely sure how the words found their way to her mind, but the moment they left her mouth she knew they were true. These two intruders were the owners of the junk-heap, and they were here to take it back.

The Wookie let out another unhappy sound, waving his arms angrily as if to get a point across. Something along the lines of: his _ship? This is_ my _ship!_ Rey felt a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. As if catching onto her amusement, the ship's owner continued to complain, his vast paws cutting swathes through the air that would have taken the head off a fully-grown man.

"What is it now?" a voice suddenly demanded from directly behind the creature. "We can fix whatever it is later, right now we have to find that damn…key…"

The voice trailed off as the Wookie pivoted to the side, revealing a tall, handsome man in a leather jacket. A small blaster was holstered at his hip. Everything was silent for a moment as the man stared at Rey in shock. Then:

"Who the hell are _you_?" he burst out. "And what are you doing on my ship?"

The smile dropped from Rey's face instantly and she raised the hydrospanner defensively. " _Your_ ship?" she challenged, despite her certainty that the man was being honest.

"Yes, _my_ ship," the man responded irritably. "The Falcon has been mine for decades, until those rotten junk sellers stole it. Chewie and I are here to get it back." He gestured casually to the Wookie, who Rey now surmised was called _Chewie._

Rey sized up the two intruders before her, thinking quickly. Her normally suspicious nature seemed to have fallen silent in their presence, replaced with a calm confidence that they could help her. "Well," she ventured, "right now it's in the possession of Unkar Plutt, a junk-dealer who doesn't put much stock in 'it was mine first.'"

The man's face darkened into a scowl. "Is that what you call yourself, then? Onkar Lutt?"

Rey tipped her head back and let out a high, clear laugh. "Me?" she demanded, still smiling. "No, silly. My name is Rey." She dropped the hydrospanner and stuck out her hand to shake.

The man looked at her in silence for a few moments, eyebrows raised. Then he enveloped her hand in his much larger palm, ignoring her grease-stained fingers, and smiled. "Pleasure to meet you, Rey. My name is Han, and this is Chewie. Now tell us what you're doing on our ship."

Rey tipped her chin down, nervously glancing at Han from under her eyelashes. She knew she was in the wrong, and even if these two meant her no harm, she couldn't be sure that they wouldn't tell Plutt how she had illegally camped out inside his junk-heap ship. "Umm…" she began. "Well I…I work for Plutt. I'm a scavenger."

Chewie let out a roar of dismay, taking a step back, but Han steadied him with a hand on his arm. "It's alright Chewie, she's just a kid," he admonished. "Let's hear her out."

Rey nodded gratefully. "I was sold to Unkar Plutt a three years ago," she explained. "It was a mistake—my parents are coming back for me. Until then I'm working for him as a scavenger to pay off my debt." She shrugged gracelessly. "I've been living on your ship for six months. Usually we'd scavenge an old wreck like this—" here Chewie growled warningly—"but Plutt thought that maybe he could get it flying again, if he had the right parts. After a few months he realized that he didn't have the materials or the manpower, so he sort of forgot about it."

Han grimaced. "It doesn't fly?"

Rey shook her head sadly. "I've been fixing it," she said. "Plutt's men are worse than useless when it comes to these sorts of things. But one of the heat coils is shot and the panel is encrypted so I can't open it up."

"Yeah, I encrypted it so that my son would stop taking it apart," the man said, his mind obviously elsewhere. "Is that all?"

Rey shrugged again. "There's an ignition lock so I can't exactly get it running to check. But I think yes."

Han eyed her thoughtfully. "Who taught you mechanics?" he asked.

Rey tilted her head to the side. "No one," she said quietly. "I like tinkering."

The man "hmmed" and glanced around awkwardly. "Well you've kept it clean, at least," he admitted. "Although the exterior looks like its been sandblasted once or twice."

Rey grinned. "Yes. There aren't many hangars at Niima Outpost."

"Disrespectful, is what it is," he grumbled. "The Falcon was stolen about ten months ago and completely disappeared off the map. It probably would have ended up gathering dust here for years if we hadn't received a tip on its whereabouts."

Rey watched him silently, not sure how she was expected to respond to this statement.

Han released a heavy sigh. "Alright, kid, I'll tell you what," he began. "Maybe we can help each other out. You help me get that ignition lock off and I'll see to it that you don't have to live in Force-forsaken wasteland anymore."

Rey lifted her chin proudly. "Like I said before, Mr. Han, sir, I'm waiting for my parents to come back and get me. I can't leave Jakku."

Han stared at her bleakly, his eyes revealing a deep sadness. People rarely looked at Rey that way—most of the other inhabitants of Niima Outpost either wanted to swindle you or use you, depending on their type. They hardly every felt sorry for you. Something about the man's sympathy raised Rey's hackles. "You think I'm crazy, don't you?" she demanded. "You think they're not coming back."

The man lifted both hands defensively. "No, kid. I didn't say anything. Look, stay here if you want, but I'm trying to liberate my ship. If you help, I'll give you whatever you want. Otherwise…I'm sorry, but you'll have to find a new place to stay."

Rey's eyes gleamed as she surveyed him. "Anything I want?"

Han had the wherewithal to look slightly suspicious. "Within reason, sure."

Rey straightened as much as she could within the confines of her alcove, her narrow shoulders thrown back. "There is one thing," she said slowly. "There's something. In your left pocket."

Han looked startled, and began reaching for the pocket in question. "No," Rey said. "Not yet. Don't show it to me until we get your ship back. Just promise." She bit her lip anxiously. She wasn't sure why she wanted the item so badly, or even how she knew it existed. All she knew was that something was drawing her to the man's pocket, and that suddenly, desperately, she needed to have whatever it contained.

"Sure," Han said slowly, his eyes showing deep suspicion, or at least confusion. "I promise. Now, tell me who this Tutt guy is. Where can I find him?"

Satisfied with the deal, Rey hopped down to the ship's floor, drawing herself up to her full height—barely level with Chewie's waist. "Unkar Plutt is very powerful in Niima," she began. "He's a junk dealer who owns many scavenger-slaves. His trade shop is the third building on the left when you walk into town. But you can't just wander up to him and demand your ship back—he'll either chase you off or try to overcharge you, if you let him think it's valuable to you."

The ship's owner stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Okay, then, what do you suggest?"

Rey squinted thoughtfully. "You have to make him think the old rust bucket it worthless," she finally decided. Chewie rumbled. "If you convince him it will never fly again, he might let you buy it for spare parts, if you have money."

"I have plenty of credits," Han offered.

Rey shook her head instantly. "We pay in rations here," she corrected. "Foodstuffs. Nobody cares for republic credits."

"Just like Force-damned Tatooine," the man swore, while Chewie grunted in agreement. "Well then, that plan is out the window. Looks like we're going to have to steal her." Something about Han's expression seemed to indicate that he was more excited about this idea than he was about a simple exchange of currency.

Rey's pulse thrummed with excitement. "Plutt is a dirty thief himself," she admitted. "He pays his scavengers a pittance and he probably stole this ship to start with. It's only fair that you steal it back."

Han sent her a lopsided grin. "Where do you think he would keep the decryption key?"

"Same place he keeps all his keys," Rey shrugged. "In his workshop. I can get to them, but I would need a distraction."

Han's answer was interrupted by the clanging of metal.

"Ahh," Rey said. "That'll be the security droids."

"The-the what?" he exploded. "You-you filthy scavenger, you distracted us on purpose until back-up could arrive, didn't you?"

Rey rolled her eyes with all the sarcasm a girl her age could manage. "No," she said, drawing the word out as if it were obvious. "I like Plutt as much as the next scavenger, which is to say, not at all. The droids are practically useless—better that they come after us than Plutt himself. They're poorly constructed and can't make it to the lower levels, so they just scan for lifeforms."

"But the lower bay is cloaked against—"

"—infrared sensors," Rey finished. "I know. This is a smuggler ship, obviously. No better way to disguise precious cargo. Which means you two—" she pointed, "are smugglers. Plutt doesn't know, which is why he sends the droids to monitor the place every few days. It's what's allowed me to stay hidden here all this time. Hardly anyone ever comes in, except the droids, and they have no way of detecting me if I stay silent."

"Ahh," Han hummed, rubbing the back of his neck again. "I think I have an idea."

* * *

From his vantage point atop the Falcon, Han could just make out Chewie's shape as he shuffled towards the third adobe on the left side of Niima's main street. He glanced quickly to the side and caught sight of Rey, crouched behind a low watering trough in the village square, her beige tunic blending perfectly with the sand around her.

Her presence had been a surprise to the former smuggler, but not an entirely unpleasant one. Something about her wide-eyed eagerness and crafty grin reminded him of a younger, more innocent Ben. The Ben he had known before a shadow had taken up residence in his son's eyes and the weight of the world had seemed to bear down on his shoulders. He imagined that Rey's life as a scavenger had to have been a living hell, and couldn't help but wonder what kind of parents would abandon such a precocious child on a planet like Jakku.

Returning his gaze to Chewie, he saw that the Wookie had arrived at Plutt's workshop. One hairy paw pounded on the counter three times, and Han observed the shifting of a large form in the window. As Chewie engaged the junk trader in conversation—hindered somewhat by the language barrier between the two—Han palmed a small control pad in one hand. He waited until conversation escalated. As two raised voices echoed across the sand towards him, he pressed the center button of the keypad.

With a flash of sparks and a screech of grinding metal, one of the security droid reeled from under Falcon, gun arm swinging wildly and head dangling lopsidedly from its neck. It had been easy work for Han and Chewie to disarm and dismantle the two droids once Rey had assured them that doing so would not trigger an alarm to tip off Plutt. One droid had been deactivated and stowed in the hull of the Falcon, while Chewie had carefully implanted a small detonator in the circuit panel of the second. When the detonator was activated, a fuse was blown that rendered the droid's logic controls useless and fed it a constant danger signal. And viola—an out-of-control, trigger-happy pile of scrap metal.

Sure enough, Plutt barely had time to look up at the noise before the droid started firing off laser bolts at random as it staggered drunkenly towards the Outpost. With a roar of outrage the trader slammed open his door and came to investigate, palming the blaster at his hip. Now that he was in the open, Han could identify Rey's owner as a Crolute, and a large one at that.

In a series of well-rehearsed movements, Rey slipped from her shelter and sprinted across the courtyard towards Chewie, totally unbeknownst to her erstwhile master. Chewie smoothly slid an arm around Rey's waist and lifted her onto the counter before spinning around and using his bulk to shield her movements as she slid under the transaction window and crawled into Plutt's inner workshop.

Meanwhile, the junk trader was sheltering behind a pillar as the streets quickly emptied of civilians unwilling to face the rogue security droid. Han focused on Chewie's shape and silently begged Rey to hurry. This was the riskiest part of their plan—if Plutt returned to his workshop before she located the key, there would be trouble. But the young girl had assured her compatriots that Plutt would be more interested in rescuing his expensive droid than in securing the shop. After all, no one at Niima Outpost had the guts to steal from Unkar Plutt. Han could only hope that she had judged his character correctly.

The droid took another ungainly step and slipped in the sand, collapsing to its sides. Its legs churned wildly, trying to continue its march, and its gun fired into the sand, but the damage had been done. With surprising dexterity for one so large, Plutt pounced on the robot and plucked loose a panel at the base of its neck. With a few quick motions of his thick fingers, the droid's engine whirred to a stop, rendering it useless.

_Stay there and try to figure out what's wrong with the damn thing,_ Han pleaded internally. _Just give us thirty more seconds._

Unfortunately, luck was not on their side. Tipped off perhaps by the conspicuous absence of the second security droid, or by the coincidental appearance of a strange Wookie just moments previously, Plutt staggered to his feet, spinning wildly about and narrowing his gaze in on Chewie, whose careful position in front of the shop set the trader into action once more. With a shout he lumbered towards the adobe, waving his arms angrily.

Swearing, Han scrambled to the side of the Falcon and dropped to the ground, staggering to maintain his footing on the treacherous sand. Forsaking the cover of the ship, he jogged after Plutt, drawing his blaster.

"Hey, you half-witted, scruffy looking nerf herder! That's right, you!" he shouted, wielding the blaster threateningly.

Plutt spun around, drawing his own weapon. "What do you want?" he thundered.

Han shrugged, a characteristic smirk overtaking his face. "Just wondering if you wanted to know who ruined your security droid."

Plutt roared in anger, firing off a shot. Han threw himself to the side, ducking and rolling, but there was little cover in the open space between the Falcon and the rest of the Outpost. As Plutt lined up to fire off a second shot, the sand near his feet exploded as Chewie opened fire. Practically spitting with rage, the junk trader ducked behind another pillar, assessing his situation and realizing that he had been tricked and surrounded. Reaching to his belt he pulled out a keypad and hurriedly punched in a code. Behind Chewie, a plexiglas screen began to roll down over the shop window.

The Wookie roared angrily and dropped his bowcaster, jamming both paws under the descending barrier and attempting to force it upwards.

Plutt, seemingly satisfied that his shop was secured, returned his attention to Han, who had slipped closer and found shelter in the shadow of an ill-constructed tent home. "I know you're out there, thief," Plutt rumbled. "Show yourself, and I'll make your death painless!"

Han rolled his eyes dramatically and chanced a glance around the corner of his flimsy shield. The plexiglas had lowered considerably, leaving a gap of only about six inches between it and the counter. Chewie was losing his battle. As Han watched, a small hand slipped through the gap and dropped a decryption key onto the counter before quickly retracting as the glass slammed down. Chewie bellowed in frustration. Without warning, laser fire whizzed past Han's face, causing him to recoil and drop to the ground as the next shot ripped through the tent and passed through the space where he had been standing moments before.

In a flash of clarity, he realized they could not leave Rey and make a run for the Falcon. If she were deemed complicit in their heist, he could not imagine the punishment she would suffer at the hands of Plutt. They had to distract the junk-trader while she slipped away, or else convince her to leave with them. Rolling to his feet, Han surveyed his options. He could hear Plutt approaching the opposite side of the smoking tent. While he would prefer not to shoot to kill, it was becoming a more and more appealing option as the seconds ticked past.

_A Jedi seeks to preserve life,_ Leia's voice rang in his head.

_I'm not a Jedi,_ Han had responded teasingly, tucking a loose strand of chocolate-colored hair behind the shell of her ear.

She had looked at him in that way that only she could manage, lips pursed, eyes cutting through his defenses and sizing him up frankly. It was a look that simultaneously terrified and excited him. Over the past two decades he had made it his goal to elicit that look from her as often as possible. _That doesn't give you an excuse to kill without conscience,_ she had quipped, and the conversation had ended there because really, how could he argue with his beautiful, stubborn wife when they both knew she was right?

Growling in frustration, Han banished the memory and spun around the other side of the tent, hoping to evade Plutt entirely and reach Chewie, who was currently hammering at the locked door with the butt of his bowcaster.

Unfortunately, his move did not go to plan as more laser fire whizzed past his left ear, causing him to throw himself to the ground in the shelter of an overturned cart. Panting for breath, Han scanned his surroundings again. The wind was picking up now, whistling between the tents and driving sand into his eyes. Grinning, he took stock of Plutt's moving form and aimed his blaster.

The shot rang out, slicing neatly through one of the cords staking down a tent upwind of Plutt. Another shot, and the second cord split. The growing storm caught hold of the structure and tossed it, tumbling end over end, into the junk-trader.

Not waiting to assess his work, Han scrambled to his feet and sprinted to Chewie, who was still battering uselessly at the sturdy steel framework of the door. He let out a frustrated roar as Han approached. _It's locked from both sides._

"Shit," Han swore, adding in a few more colorful insults of his own devising. "Stand back, maybe we can shoot the catch."

Chewie shook his head helplessly, indicating the scorch marks resulting from his own attempts to do just that.

"Come on, come on, think," Han snarled, pacing in front of the door. "What do we do?"

Without warning, the door clicked open and Rey stepped out, looking flushed but unharmed.

Completely bewildered, Han and Chewie both took a moment to stare at her. "What—"

" _YOU! You filthy sandrat!_ " Plutt screamed.

Three heads jerked up to catch sight of the hulking Crolute staggering towards them. His head covering had been knocked to the side, and he was still shredding bits of tentcloth from his arms.

" _I'll kill you_!" he shouted, raising his blaster and firing wildly.

Rey sprang to the side and the blaster fire left a glowing circle in the wall, directly where her head had been moments before.

Han's brow darkened with anger as he raised his blaster. _Force-damn it all,_ he raged internally. _This monster thinks he can open fire on a child? Leia wouldn't begrudge me this._ His shot struck Plutt in the shoulder, an intentional adjustment to avoid taking his enemy's life. Nonetheless, the wound was a painful one, and the junk-trader sagged to the side, roaring in pain.

"Get to the Falcon!" Han shouted, just as the buzz of hovercraft reached his ears. "Chewie, take her with you!"

The Wookie obediently scooped Rey up with one arm and bolted flat-out towards the waiting ship, decryption key clutched in his other paw. Han spun around to face the approaching craft, which appeared to belong to some sort of backwoods peace-keeping force. As the craft stopped outside Plutt's shop, Han spun on his heel and sprinted after his companions, hoping to avoid another confrontation.

He was nearing the ship as a voice rang out. "Hey, you there! Stop!"

Blaster fire buzzed past his heels as he scrambled up the ladder into the open rear hatch and slammed the door shut behind him. "We've got company!" he bellowed. "Chewie, get her up and running!"

The Wookie glanced up from where he was keying in the code to the access panel. Rey crouched beside him, juggling a spare heat coil from palm to palm.

_Clever girl,_ Han thought, hurrying to the pilot's chair. _No wonder it took her so long to get out—she was looking for the decryption key_ and _the heat coil._

Chewie tossed him the decryption key and he set about unlocking the ignition as the ping of laser fire alerted them to the arrival of the vigilante peace-keepers outside. "Disembark immediately!" a voice demanded.

"How's it coming Chewie?" Han shouted, flicking switches as he began to fire up the long-unused sublight engines.

Chewie let out a bark that meant something like _shut up, we're doing our best._

Han glanced back to see two sets of hands rapidly plucking at wires and adjusting the new heat coil. The old device already lay discarded on the floor. _Impressive, once again,_ Han thought. _That girl can't be older than eight but she acts at least twice her age._

More laser fire raked the underbelly of the ship.

"Chewie!" Han shouted.

Another roar. _Hit it!_

Han slammed the throttle forward and the Falcon lurched once, listing dangerously to the side before skimming over the ground and gaining altitude. The tarps were ripped away in a cloud of sand, revealing the long stretch of desert beyond Niima Outpost. Laser fire faded in the distance as the short-range weapons of their assailants fell out of range.

The Falcon circled the Outpost once and lifted away. Chewie's paw descended on Han's shoulder and he let out a string of garbled sounds. _What about the cruiser we used to get here?_

"Forget it," Han said. "Leia can nag all she wants—I want off of this bloody sand pit."


	2. It Has Begun

Chapter 2: It Has Begun

"It started out as a feeling

Which then grew into a hope

Which then turned into a quiet thought

Which then turned into a quiet word."

-The Call, Regina Spektor

* * *

_23 ABY_

* * *

Rey was very upset.

This was not an altogether unfortunate fact, as she was also rather scared and the anger helped disguise the fear. She had very clearly told Mr. Han and his friend, Chewie, that she wanted to stay on Jakku, and yet here she was, rocketing through hyperspace in a streaming blur of stars the way she had heard about in all of the old stories.

She understood that the plan had gone awry, and that returning to Plutt now would be a virtual death sentence, but she was still angry, in a petulant way that defied logic. The ridiculous nature of her misdirected rage irritated her further, leaving her with no recourse but to sulk in an empty corner while Han and Chewie entered coordinates in the ship's computer. She had heard them call it "the Falcon," and although she wasn't quite sure what a falcon was, she surmised that it must be a specific type of spaceship. _Probably the kind with pieces falling off left and right_ , she thought. Insulting the ship made her feel a bit better, but also caused a twinge of guilt. To dispel her growing panic, she peeked out of her corner, fighting back a shiver.

"Let's not return to Naboo yet," Han was saying. "I just sent Leia a message about the lost cruiser and I want to give her some time to cool off. Besides, we can swing through and pick up that shipment for Luke that Lando contacted us about last week. He'll be glad to see the Falcon."

Chewie rumbled in agreement and the two fell into silence for a few moments before the sound of shuffling heralded their approach. Rey pretended to be preoccupied with something in her hands, and only looked up at the sound of the duo's arrival.

"Okay, kid?" Han asked, running a hand through his gray-flecked hair and rubbing the back of his neck.

Rey only scowled at him, fingers balling into fists. "Take me back," she hissed. "Take me back _now._ " She itched to throw herself at him, to claw at his eyes, but years of living with Plutt had taught her the consequences of letting her emotions take over.

"Look," he began again. "I know you wanted to stay on Jakku to wait for your parents, but it's not safe for you there anymore. That Force-damned Crolute will want your head on a pike before he's satisfied. He had the right idea about getting the Falcon up and running again—she's a valuable craft, and we stole her right out from under him."

"Because that's what you do, isn't it?" Rey asked, narrowing her eyes. "You steal things, sneak around. Because you're smugglers. You're probably going to sell me too, aren't you?"

Han looked deeply offended and sank into a seat across from Rey's corner. "Is that what you think of us?" he asked, sounding a bit hurt. "For your information, we're not smugglers. Ex-smugglers, sure. But we dropped that gig almost twenty years ago. Besides, if you really thought we were so bad, why did you help us?"

Rey flushed in embarrassment. The truth was, she had been so caught up in the excitement of meeting the owners of her ship—because, yes, she thought of the Falcon as _her_ ship after living on it for months—that she hadn't stopped to consider her motivation. She should have known that crossing Plutt would end unpleasantly, but something had pushed her to help the two strangers. She wasn't sure what that something was, but she could feel it practically boiling under her skin now.

Judging Rey's silence for what it was—uncertainty—Han continued placatingly. "Look, I know you're not happy to be here. But Chewie and I could really use another pair of hands to help keep this old girl running. And you have a way with the electronics. I've never seen anyone change a heat coil that fast. Chewie was telling me that there have been extensive repairs to the hyperdrive compressor and main thrusters. I'm guessing that was you too?"

At Rey's begrudging nod, he continued. "Clearly you're a bright kid. I think we can help each other. My wife is a…diplomat of sorts. That means she has lots of connections. If anyone can locate your parents, she can. What do you say you cruise with us while she does her best to find them?"

For the first time since Chewie had dragged her, kicking and screaming, onto the Falcon, Rey felt a spark of hope bloom in her chest. If what this man said was true, she could be closer to finding her parents than she had been in nearly three years.

"Okay," she finally conceded, breaking the growing tension. "I guess you're right that you need another pair of hands. This rust-bucket is on its last legs."

Chewie growled in protest, throwing his paws up in frustration. "Watch it, kid," Han admonished. "We might be friends, but no one insults the Millennium Falcon in front of me."

Rey froze, her grin dropping. "Did you say—that is, is this ship—is this the Millennium Falcon?"

"The one and only," Han declared proudly, patting the interior paneling fondly. "She's a little rough around the edges, but she's gotten us through many a pinch."

"Then that means you're…you're _the_ Han Solo. And that's _the_ Chewbacca. You're—you're war heroes!" she breathed, face alight with excitement. "You helped win the Battle of Endor, and you—you saved Luke Skywalker's life! And your wife, the diplomat—she's Princess Leia Organa!"

"I think she prefers Senator Organa these days," Han corrected. "And between you and me, we've saved Skywalker's life more than once," he said, jerking a thumb in Chewbacca's direction.

Chewie huffed in amused agreement.

Rey gaped at the duo like a landed fish, trying and failing to grasp the concept that two of her lifelong heroes—stories of whom had circled Niima Outpost in secret whispers—were standing before her in the flesh. And what was more, she had helped them steal their ship back. Another exploit to add to the legendary history of Han Solo and Chewbacca.

"Catching flies, are we?" the former smuggler quipped. "Shut your mouth before your tongue rolls out, kid."

Rey snapped her jaw shut, still staring at him wide-eyed.

"Well, since you've agreed to the join the crew, let's find you a real bunk," he continued. "That little corner below decks won't—" he broke off suddenly, focusing intently on Rey's arm. "What's that?"

Rey glanced down quickly. Her arm-wrappings had loosened, revealing the top edge of her beaded leather bracelet. Brushing and stammering, she reached up to loosen its ties.

"S-sorry," she managed. "I found it on the ship after Plutt and his men stripped it. It must be yours." She fumbled with the clasp until Han dropped a hand over hers, stilling her motions.

"No," he said, voice sounding a little funny. "Keep it, it suits you. Speaking of which, I have something for you. The other end of our bargain." He reached into his left pocket and pulled out a square of waxy looking paper, worn around the edges with time and excessive handling. He extended the object to Rey, who took it with trembling hands. The folded edges felt alive under her fingers, and her heart jumped as she flipped it over to examine both sides.

The paper was, in fact, a photograph. In it, three smiling figures sat close together, arms around each other's shoulders. On one side was a younger version of Han Solo, his hair lacking its current streaks of gray. Rey spared him only a cursory glance before focusing on the woman on the other side of the picture. She was small and slender, which a heart-shaped face and rich brown hair that she wore woven into complex braids. Rey had never seen a picture of Leia Organa, but she suspected that this was the princess of legend. Like her husband, Leia's figure didn't capture Rey's attention for long. Instead her eyes traveled to the young boy squeezed between the smiling couple. His hair was long and curling and black as pitch. It shone like smooth velvet despite the poor quality of the photo. Rey had never seen velvet before, but she imagined that it looked like this boy's hair. She had also heard it was soft, and she felt the strange urge to reach into the photo and see if his hair was too. A straight nose, piercing brown eyes, and full lips gave him a look somewhere between angelic and roguish. She could see Han in the shape and brightness of his serious eyes, and abruptly, she knew.

"Ben?" she asked, pointing at the boy in the picture.

Han blinked in surprise. "How do you know that name?" he asked hesitantly.

"His name is carved under the bulkhead where I lived," Rey answered, not looking up from the picture. "B-E-N. This bracelet was his too, wasn't it?" She fingered the leather band around her upper arm carefully.

"Yes," Han said slowly. Rey looked up at his tone, catching a strange look in his eyes—the same indiscernible one he'd been giving her before, when he first caught sight of the bracelet.

"He's your son."

"Yes," Han said, seeming to regain his momentum. "He's ten in that photo—it was taken years ago. He's older now. Taller."

Rey grinned at Han's lackluster description. "You can have it back now," she said, holding the photograph out. "I only wanted to see it."

"Keep it, kid," Han responded, standing and brushing invisible dust off his knees. "You earned it. Now let's see about that bunk."

* * *

Han showed Rey to a small bunk next door to his own and indicated where she could place her things. She didn't have any things, so she just shrugged and surveyed her new home, rubbing the goose bumps sprouting on her arms.

"Sorry," Han said, shucking his jacket off. "I forgot how cold space is the first time around. We'll find something more your size when we meet up with my friend, Lando. Until then, this will have to do." He dangled the jacket out on a single finger. "That damn Crolute really did scour this place bare."

Rey hesitated. She had long since learned not to accept handouts, especially from near-strangers like Han. But he had thus far proven trustworthy—he and Chewie had had ample opportunity to abandon her in Plutt's shop but had instead chosen to stay back and rescue her. Besides, Han was right—space was cold, and all she had besides the clothes on her back where the few wretched rags and cushions she had gathered to line her nest belowdecks.

Swallowing her pride, Rey accepted the proffered article and slid it over her thin shoulders. The jacket smelled of leather, woodsmoke, and oil, and it was still warm from Han's body. It enveloped her completely, with the hem hanging past her knees while the sleeves trailed on the ground.

Han eyed her somewhat critically. "How old are you, kid?" he asked.

"I'm eight years old," Rey said clearly, meeting his gaze.

"You sure? You're pretty…tiny."

Rey scowled. "Small means less food, shouldn't you be grateful?"

Han looked disgruntled. "No," he said. "Not all employers starve their workers like Plutt. The sooner we get a good meal in you, the better."

Rey flushed and shuffled her feet anxiously, uncertain how to respond to Han's generosity.

"We should be at Cloud City in about twelve hours—why don't you get some sleep? I'll wake you when we drop out of hyperspace."

* * *

In the end, it was the rattling of the Falcon's sublight engines engaging that woke Rey. She crawled out of her hidden alcove, pulling Han's jacket more tightly around her ribs. After hours of tossing and turning on her bunk in the crew's quarters, she had given in and retreated below to her usual resting place. There, Ben's letters could keep watch while she slept. Rey briefly wondered how old—and tall—Han's son was now.

She clambered up to the main deck and stooped to replace the hatch before turning and nearly colliding with Han as he exited the bunkroom. He looked her up and down briefly, but didn't comment on her conspicuously empty bed.

"Chewie just received the landing codes," he informed her. "We should touch down in about ten minutes. Lando is an old friend of mine from before the war. We used to do business together, and now he oversees a lot of the trade routes in this part of the galaxy. He has a delivery of supplies for another friend of mine, out on Yavin 4."

"Luke Skywalker?" Rey asked, falling in step behind Han as he headed for the cockpit.

"You like eavesdropping, huh kid?" Han asked mildly. "Yeah, Luke. He's training a new generation of Jedi there, including my son."

The pilot slid into his seat, not noticing that Rey had frozen in the doorframe behind him. "Ben is…Ben is a Jedi?" she asked softly, shifting unconsciously.

Han glanced up, noticing her strange tone. "Well, an apprentice, sure," he confirmed. "He's been at the Temple for three years now. His mother was training him before that, until things…changed."

"Changed, how?" Rey inquired, drawing nearer until her head occupied the space between Han and Chewie's shoulders.

"It's complicated," Han replied evasively. "Why are you so interested in him, anyways?"

Rey shrugged, effectively ending the conversation. She thought she had seen a light in Han's eyes when he had looked at the photograph of his wife and young son, but it was absent at the mention of Ben the Jedi apprentice.

She strapped into one of the seats behind her employers, squashing down the sliver of disappointment that had arisen from her crushed hope that Ben would be a frequent visitor on the Falcon, or perhaps another crewmember. Even on an isolated planet like Jakku, tales of the Jedi circulated wildly, carrying with them an element of galactic folklore and mystique. Set apart by their austerity and rejection of attachment, the Jedi were a peace-keeping force whose members had no place aboard an ex-smuggling cruiser like the Falcon. Stories of the Jedi had always been Rey's favorite, when she had the opportunity to crouch near the village square and hear the old wisewomen speak of them. Despite her disappointment, it somehow felt right that Ben—whose name and figure she had come to associate with protection—was being trained to defend the weak. Maybe one day, if she met him, she could tell him about Plutt and the other scavenger-slaves who needed rescuing.

Rey's thoughts were interrupted as the Falcon entered the atmosphere of a pale-yellow planet.

"Welcome to Bespin, kid," Han said, easing back on the throttle.

Rey's jaw dropped in awe as she took in the sight before her. Columns, arches, and walls of shimmering clouds dominated the landscape. Each was cast in hues of red, yellow, pink, and orange by the rising sun. Han maneuvered the Falcon effortlessly lower, rounding a pillar of cumulonimbus and revealing a great silver city hanging in the air. Cloud City was shaped like an upside-down teardrop, its upper rim smooth and rounded while its lower half narrowed to a sharp point above the dense layer of fog below.

Han chuckled, clearly anticipating her reaction. "Lando always did have a flare for the dramatic," he commented dryly, circling the Falcon closer and dropping the landing gear as they entered a wide hangar.

As soon as the ship touched down, a team of service droids rolled out into the shuttle bay to begin repairs. Han deployed the main landing bridge and rose from his seat. Rey quickly followed, excitement making her hands fumble with her restraints. The trio descended into the hangar, Chewie to Han's right and Rey to his left, still draped in the heavy folds of his old leather jacket.

A handsome, dark-skinned man awaited them at the foot of the bridge. He wore a cerulean cape and matching shirt over dark parts and sturdy, buckled boots. Like Han, his hair was flecked with silver, but the brightness in his eyes hinted at an internal youthful energy.

"Han Solo, you old son of a bantha, you didn't tell me you had the Falcon back!"

"Just picked her up yesterday," Han said, a genuine smile passing over his face. "Some worthless junk-trader had her impounded in the middle of the desert on Jakku." He glanced down at Rey and winked. She grinned in response, appreciating his description of Plutt.

"And who's this?" Lando asked, gesturing to Rey. "I thought Leia said one was enough, after Ben? Don't tell me you've been hiding her all this time."

Rey flushed at the implication that she was Han's daughter, although she wasn't certain whether the response stemmed from embarrassment or pride.

"That would've have been a feat for the ages, given the amount of trouble she gets up to," Han quipped, reaching out to grasp Lando's hand. "The Falcon wasn't the only thing we found on Jakku. Lando, I'd like you to meet Rey. Rey, this is Lando Calrissian."

Rey shoved her sleeve back and extended her hand with all the confidence she could muster. She was shocked when Lando took it delicately and dropped a kiss on her knuckles. "A pleasure, Lady Rey," he said, smiling in a fatherly fashion. "You look like you could use a smaller jacket and a warm meal."

Rey's ravenous hunger must have shown in her eyes, because Lando tipped his head back and released a booming laugh. "Right this way," he said, sweeping an arm towards the hangar doors. "To Cloud City's finest. Han, Chewie, I expect the full story of your adventures over dinner."

* * *

Three courses later, Rey, Han, and Chewie sat at a booth with Lando in the back of a dimly lit but surprisingly clean eatery. A string quartet made up of the four most bizarrely different aliens Rey had ever seen crouched in the far corner, filling the room with the sweet, soft strains of a concerto.

"A Crolute scavenger station," Lando said, shaking his head in disbelief. "Didn't know those existed anymore. I imagine they were stripping ships left behind after the Battle of Jakku?" He directed the question at Rey, his dark eyes gentle.

Rey, who had never witnessed such a quantity of food in her young life, had eaten like a man faced with starvation. She was currently struggling to keep her meal down, unused to the richness of the fare. She simply nodded.

"Can't imagine that's a pretty establishment," Lando continued. "Although I'm not surprised you know your way around a ship after a few years as a scavenger."

Rey smiled wanly, and Han took over the conversation gracefully. "The important part is we know it's there now. I'm hoping the Republic will be able to spare a few ships to go down and check it out. I never did understand why anyone would try so hard to make a living on a planet where there's no living to be made. With any luck the rest of those kids can be evacuated to other worlds that can care for them."

Lando smiled broadly. "You might hate to admit it, old friend, but Leia sure has changed you. Is that a beating heart I see, under all that foul temper and disagreeableness?"

Chewie let out a barking laugh at his friend's expense.

Han instantly scowled. "Shut it, furball," he said. "I'm just being practical. Economically those kids can contribute a lot more to the Republic by doing real jobs than they can by sorting through scrap metal in the middle of nowhere."

"Sure, sure," Lando said, tipping back his glass to access an ice cube. His eyes twinkled with mirth as he met Rey's gaze. "What I want to know is how you got the doors on that shop to open, young Rey. I've seen setups like that one before—some people call them burglars' nooses. They're meant as much to keep intruders out as to trap thieves inside to await justice. Got caught in a similar situation myself once and spent a month behind bars as a result."

Rey fiddled with something in her lap, feeling intensely uncomfortable. The truth was, she could barely remember those panicked moments in Plutt's shop. She remembered sliding the decryption key out to Chewie, and the sound of his furious grunts as he hammered at the door catch. She remembered the taste of her own fear, metallic in her mouth, followed by the calming realization that she was probably going to die, or at least have a hand chopped off, like the poor boy who had finally starved two summers ago after lifting a few portions off of Plutt and having a limb removed for his trouble. She remembered laying both hands on the door, thinking _I am going to die,_ before the durasteel of the latch suddenly glowed as if on fire. She remembered springing back, clutching her burnt palm to her chest as the door swung under the weight of Chewie's blows. It was all a hazy mess in her mind, and only three things stood out: the fear, the calm, and sting of heat under her hands. At the time she had assumed that the latch had been destroyed by laser fire, leading to intense heating. But according to Han's version of the story, Chewie's attack on the door had been totally fruitless. Whoever had fried the circuits in the door lock and caused them to disengage, it hadn't been him.

Rey blinked, realizing that she had been avoiding Lando's insistent gaze for more than a few seconds. "I'm uhh…not sure," she admitted. "I thought Han opened the door." It wasn't technically a lie, but she still felt a twinge of guilt at the omission of details. She didn't know how to explain to her companions the strange surge of strength that had flowed through her—through her, not from her—in the moments leading up to her escape. She wasn't sure how to make them understand her strange suspicion that _she_ had somehow been responsible for the surge of heat. She glanced down at her palms, resting uselessly in her lap atop Han's folded jacket. They looked perfectly normal, except for a narrow crescent-shaped burn across the heel of her left hand.

Lando "hmmed" softly and released her from his stare. "Well, it's lucky things worked out as they did." He raised a hand to call over a server droid. "Let's see about getting you some supplies and clothes suited for space flight, shall we?"

* * *

Rey scampered after Han through a seemingly endless maze of opalescent white halls.

"You have everything Lando gave you?" he asked, throwing a glance over his shoulder. At Rey's nod, he reiterated, "You sure?"

Rey nodded again, impatient to be off.

"The droids should be done loading the Falcon in about fifteen minutes. You get settled while I finish some last-minute business with Lando." The two turned a corner and entered the hangar where the Millennium Falcon resided, looking considerably more distinguished following a round of repairs to its sandblasted exterior and failing engines.

Heeding Han's words, Rey darted up bridge, dodging several service droids in her hurry to reach her sleeping alcove. She piled her new clothes alongside the cracked pilot's helmet on her shelf of treasures. Her new employer had insisted on providing her with two of everything—tunics, leggings, and arm-wrappings, although he had looked at the latter a bit oddly as she wound a pair around her scrawny limbs. _Sand doesn't just scour ships,_ she explained before he could ask. In a show of surprising generosity, Lando had even gifted Rey with a pair of supple leather boots that hugged her feet, and a small leather jacket—much like Han's—that fit her perfectly. Rey had begrudgingly returned her previous raiment, and already missed its comforting weight and smell.

In addition to outfitting their new recruit, Han and Chewie had equipped the Falcon with the trappings of comfort—thick woolen blankets to ward off the chill of space, bins of preserved meals that tasted astonishingly better than the rations of Jakku, and barrels of fresh water to be pumped into the ship's recycling stream.

Rey finished tucking her things away and meandered aimlessly to the upper deck of the ship. From there she strolled out into the hangar in search of something to do. A row of wooden crates awaiting loading—likely part of Luke's shipment—crowded the space surrounding the Falcon. Planning to offer assistance to the service droids currently shifting the supplies, Rey drew closer.

"I told you, Lando, she's just a kid and a talented mechanic." It was Han's voice, and something about his furtive tone made Rey want to stop and listen. She remembered Han's jab about her eavesdropping earlier, however, and was about turn away when she heard her own name.

"I know you're convinced that finding Rey on Jakku was a coincidence, but just think about it, Han," Lando's voice responded. "Ben has a vision of the Falcon in the middle of a desert—a vision that leads you to Niima Outpost—and all of a sudden this girl shows up who you've already told me has an affinity for everything the boy has touched?"

"It's not—you're leaping to conclusions," Han protested. "So, what, she's been living in that little nook he used to hide out in—all kids like crawling into small spaces. The bracelet could just as well have been mine. And the photograph—maybe she just guessed that I had _something_ in my pocket. Sure, she's a little unusual but—" his voice cut off as the two seemed to walk further away.

"—all I'm saying—trying to convince yourself—ask Leia—"

A heavy, furred paw lowered onto Rey's shoulder and she spun around, head tipping back to take in Chewie's towering form. She could have sworn that, had the Wookie possessed eyebrows, he would have been raising them questioningly.

"I'm sorry," she stammered. "I didn't mean to—"

Chewie lifted his shoulders in an approximation of a shrug and beckoned her towards the Falcon. Rey followed, filled with a mixture of shame and disappointment, both that she had overheard the conversation to begin with, and that she had failed to hear more. Her head thrummed with questions. Had Han's son really had a vision that led him to Jakku? Why did Lando think that it had anything to do with her? More importantly, who did Lando think she was if not _just a kid_?

* * *

Han entered the cockpit just as Rey and Chewie were finishing their last-minute diagnostic check of the ship's systems. Rey was perched on the edge of his chair, her short legs swinging about a foot above the ground as the Wookie attempted to explain a computer read-out to her. Rey had always been good with languages, and she had been able to pick up a few of the simpler phrases, things like _Don't touch that_ and _Hand me the hydrospanner._ The details of the read-out were rather more technical however, and the Wookie had resorted to a mixture of grunts and sign language.

"It's a thermal scan," Han said over her shoulder, pointing at the image. "The peaks are the engines—the curves are meant to be smooth, not jagged. Jagged curves can indicate a heat sink or a leaky valve."

Chewie huffed gratefully, repeating the words in his own language while Rey listened with rapt attention.

"You catch on quick, kid," Han said, shooing her from his chair. "We're cleared for take-off, so strap in. There's been a slight change in plans—rather than trekking all the way out to Yavin, we're going to drop these supplies with another contact on Takodana and then double back to Naboo."

Rey paused while clipping herself into the seat behind Han's, deflating slightly. She had been hoping to visit Luke Skywalker's Jedi temple, and not only because she thought Ben Solo might be there. Skywalker was as famous a hero as had ever walked through the tales of old, and a part of her thrummed at the thought of meeting him.

 _One day,_ she promised herself. _If I stay with Han Solo long enough, surely he'll have to visit his son and old friend._

As the Falcon's sublight engines engaged, Rey let herself sink into her chair and watch the pale clouds—now a mix of dusky peach and cool violet—part before them. When they reached the outer atmosphere, and Bespin was naught but a yellow curve below them, Chewie demonstrated to Rey how to make the jump to hyperspace. She followed his motions thoughtfully and methodically, cataloguing them for later.

The blur of hyperspace soon filled the cockpit windows, lulling Rey into a peaceful trance. It had been a long day on Bespin, and before she knew it, she was nodding off to sleep.

 _Her mind awakened in a sea of green. She was sitting cross-legged, several inches above the ground, with collection of smooth stones orbiting about her. Beyond that, the whole world was stained in rich shades of emerald. Trees? She had heard the word before and glimpsed faded pictures, but she was uncertain whether these great obelisks could be compared to those two-dimensional sketches. They_ towered. _Their leaves practically dripped water, and Rey felt herself growing thirsty at the very thought. Each seemed to pulse with life in a way that nothing on Jakku ever had._

_Where was she?_

_The moment the thought crossed her mind, she thought she felt something soft, brushing against her. Brushing against her, but not physically. It was as if someone had formed a finger of thought and trailed it gently across her consciousness. It wasn't precisely a voice, or a feeling, but rather a presence._

_The moment she recognized it, one of the stones before her dropped and she was cast back into the Falcon._

Rey's eyes flashed open on her three letters. She was tucked into her alcove with a blanket draped over her, as if someone, probably Han, had carried her there while she slept. Something about that thought made a bubble of warmth expand inside her chest.

Still disoriented, Rey scrambled to her feet and rubbed her eyes groggily. _What was that place?_ she wondered. Already the details of the dream were slipping through her consciousness. She tried to grasp at them but it was like holding water in a sieve. What had caused her to wake up? What had that brush of thought been? Was it all simply a figment of her overactive imagination? Somehow this dream felt weightier than a normal one, but even Rey wasn't sure what she meant by that.

Dissatisfied but certain that racking her mind would bring no further answers, she climbed to the main deck to search for Chewie. Perhaps he would be willing to teach her some more Wookie before they arrived at Takodana.

* * *

The Falcon dropped out of hyperspace smoothly—a testament to the repairs performed at Cloud City. Rey was strapped into the chair directly behind Han, her eyes peeled to take in the first glimpse of the new planet.

She was not disappointed as the blue and green orb swelled into view. Even from space, Takodana was beautiful.

"What kinds of rocks make it green?" Rey asked, swinging her legs excitedly and craning her neck forward.

Han snorted loudly and Chewie let out a matching bark of laughter. "Rocks, kid? What makes you think those are rocks?"

Rey scowled, blushing darkly. She was uncertain what was so funny. "Planets are made of rocks," she drawled, as if it were the most obvious of facts.

"Yeah," said Han. "But sometimes things grow on rocks. Those, my desert-dwelling friend, are trees."

Rey blanched. "What? But—they're everywhere. The whole planet…"

"Pretty typical on planets that aren't fiery, hellish pits of sand," Han responded, drawing back on the throttle as they began a graceful descent into the atmosphere.

Rey strained her eyes, still not believing Han, but they were too high up to make out much detail in the carpet of green below. "What about the blue?"

"Water," said Han, grinning at her over his shoulder.

Rey laughed gleefully. "Very funny Mr. Solo, sir."

Han raised a single thick eyebrow and with a flick of his wrist the Falcon suddenly dropped lower, sending Rey's stomach towards the vicinity of her throat. She recovered quickly, but her pulse leapt as she saw what lay ahead.

The ship was skimming perhaps twenty meters above the largest body of water she had ever seen. Ivory-capped waves curled up towards them, and the cushion of air surrounding the Falcon sent up plumes of spray that whipped past in a white mist. Without noticing that she had done so, Rey unbuckled her restraints and crawled between Han and Chewie, practically climbing over the controls in her attempt to get closer to the windows. In the distance, beyond the body of water beneath them, she could make out a thin fringe of green on the horizon.

"Woah."

Han chuckled again, brushing her arm gently aside to reach a control panel. "Believe me now, kid?"

Rey nodded slowly, still absorbed by the sight before her. "I didn't know there was this much water in the whole galaxy."

"This is nothing," Han said. "Some planets have more water than Jakku has sand."

Rey didn't believe this claim, but she had already been proven wrong once today, so she didn't argue with Han.

* * *

They set the Falcon down in a grassy field just within sight of a tall stone castle. Rey's feet pattered over the ground impatiently as she waited for Han to lower the landing bridge. When the doors finally parted and light streamed into the ship's interior, Rey wasted no time in racing down to the soft earth of Takodana.

The first thing that hit her was the smell. Takodana smelled _alive_. The rich, earthy odor of growing things assaulted her senses instantly, followed by the warm wash of humidity. Rey didn't even make it to the tree line before she sank to her knees, running her fingers through the blades of grass around her. They were strong but pliant and they made her fingers tingle oddly with a pulsating force that was both a part of her and separate. The feeling was indescribable, as if she were a part of a vast web of life—just a single bright flicker amongst the many. The trees especially seemed to look down at her, their swaying branches and flickering shadows compelling her to step closer. She had thought at first that Takodana was the location of her strange dream, but she realized now that these trees were far too small.

"Come on, kid," Han called, "You can play in the grass later. We have work to do."

Rey stood reluctantly, throwing a last longing glance at the forest behind her, and scampered after Han as they walked in the direction of the castle.

"Where's Chewie?" she asked.

"He's with the ship," Han explained. "This is a smuggler port and it's not safe to leave the Falcon unattended for long."

"Mmm," Rey hummed, then quickly changed the topic. "What's this?" she questioned, holding up a tall stalk of grass topped with a soft beige tassel.

Han raised an eyebrow. "It's…grass."

Rey rolled her eyes. "I know _that._ But what _kind_ is it? It's different from some of the other kinds, isn't it? Just like not all of the trees are the same. And like not all aliens are the same."

Han's expression morphed from amusement to outright confusion. "Who cares, kid?" he asked. "It's just grass."

"It's not _just grass,_ " Rey insisted, hurrying to match his longer strides. "It's _alive._ Can't you feel it?" She pressed the stem into his palm.

Han held the grass up skeptically. "Well it's dead now. You've picked it."

Rey opened her mouth to respond and then snapped it shut, looking rather put-out.

The two arrived at the castle courtyard just in time to prevent any further questioning from Rey. A few aliens and one or two humans were clustered outside in groups, but Han cut past them and made directly for a large wooden door that opened into a dimly lit tavern. They had barely stepped over the threshold when a strong female voice hailed them.

"Han Solo, what brings _you_ to this part of the galaxy?"

Han's head swiveled, searching for the owner of the voice, but Rey was already standing eye to eye with her. The short alien spared Rey a quick grin and glanced back at Han, giving Rey a chance to take in her appearance—thick lenses attached to a head band covered beady eyes set in a round, leathery face, while four-fingered hands were held clasped in front of a compact body sporting simple brown trousers and a short burgundy sweater. The woman looked old—far older than Han—but couldn't have stood for than a few inches taller than Rey herself.

Han finally glanced down, making eye contact with his greeter. "Maz," he said, bending and extending a hand, which the alien—Maz—took in her seemingly delicate grip. "A pleasure, as always. Can't I just be here to visit an old friend?"

Maz laughed drily. "The day you visit Takodana just to see me is the day I finally drive these smugglers out of my castle. Let's get a private room—I've a feeling this might take a while."

Han and Rey followed obediently as Maz wound between tables and down a flight of stairs to a well-furnished chamber containing a table and three empty chairs. It seemed, Rey thought strangely, as if Maz had been expecting their arrival.

Their host settled into one of the chairs and clicked her fingers briskly, awakening a service droid that promptly rolled out of the room.

"Now tell me, Han," Maz began once the other two had taken their seats. Her fingers were steepled thoughtfully beneath her chin. "Where is my boyfriend?"

"Chewie's with the Falcon," Han responded, leaning back in his seat with an amused smirk on his face.

Maz clucked in irritation. "So, you found it, did you? I don't suppose that has anything to do with your guest, here? Were you planning on introducing us?"

Han's smirk grew as if enjoying Maz's gentle sarcasm. "Maz, this is Rey. Rey, this is Maz Kanata, the pirate queen of Takodana. Anything under the sun that you need, Maz can get it for you."

"For the right price," Maz responded, leaning forward over the table and turning a dial on her glasses that altered their magnification, causing her eyes to swell dramatically. She scrutinized Rey carefully before readjusting her lenses and retreating to her chair. "So, what _really_ brings you here if it's not to reunite me with my favorite Wookie?"

"Business," Han says. "I have a shipment for Yavin 4 and I'm wondering if one of your more lawful compatriots would be willing to deliver it for me."

"Ahh," Maz said, examining Han over her folded hands. "Still avoiding your son, are you Han?"

Han scoffed, looking supremely uncomfortable. "Don't be ridiculous, Maz," he retorted. "I need to get back to Leia. Besides, you know Luke likes his privacy."

Rey peered curiously up at Han. "I thought you said we were avoiding Senator Organa until she stopped being angry that you left her cruiser on Jakku?"

Maz let out a burst of laughter. "I like this one," she admitted, granting Rey with a warm smile. "She doesn't take your bantha fodder. Regardless, it doesn't matter. I happen to already know that you'll be going to Yavin 4, so you won't require the service of my 'compatriots.'"

Han spluttered. "Excuse me?"

Maz shrugged. "Someone is coming here, looking for you. Stick around for the day and you'll find out who."

Han glared openly at his friend. "You know I hate your Force-mumbo-jumbo."

Rey's eyes widened almost as dramatically as Maz's had minutes previously. "You can use the Force?" she breathed. "Are you a Jedi?"

Maz chuckled. "Oh, stars no, girl. But I am sensitive to the occasional movement in the Force. It's an intuition more than anything." The stare she fixed Rey with seemed to indicate that there was something she wasn't saying. Without looking away, she spoke to Han. "Solo, why don't you go get Chewbacca? I'll send out a security detail for your ship so he can join us for lunch."

Han glanced uncertainly between Maz and Rey, as if sensing that the older woman was trying to get rid of him.

"Oh relax!" Maz demanded. "The girl is safe with me."

Han grumbled something under his breath about being ordered around and stood stiffly. "Don't wander off, kid," he ordered Rey. "I'll be back in ten minutes."

Rey nodded obediently and waited until Han had left the room before returning her gaze to Maz. The old alien was rubbing her temple, suddenly looking very weary.

"My child, I sense that you have endured things that no girl your age should ever have had to. I have not seen anything like you in a very long time. But not nearly as long as one would expect."

"Something like me?" Rey asked, confused.

Maz ignored the question. "I can sense him in you, you know."

Rey's mind raced. _Sense who? Plutt? Han? Chewie?_

"You know not of whom I speak," Maz explained gently. "But you soon will. Until then, you must learn to accept what is, and what never can be."

Rey frowned.

"Dear child, I see your eyes—you already know the truth. Whomever you were waiting for on Jakku, they're never coming back. And you should not go searching for them."

Rey's face crumpled and she drew away from the alien. "You're wrong," she whispered brokenly, feeling tears gather in her lashes.

Maz shook her head sadly. "The belonging you seek is not behind you—it is ahead. There is another—one who has already begun to turn from the light. You cannot save your parents, but you can save him."

Rey sniffled. "Who?"

Maz smiled softly. "That is for you to find for yourself, my dear. I may be no Jedi, but I know the Force. It moves through and surrounds every living thing. Close your eyes, feel it. The light. It's always been there. It will guide you."

Rey froze, her mind flickering to her arrival on Takodana. The _presence_ that had surrounded her seemed to pulse within her now.

"I had a dream," she began, struggling to find the proper words. "I was in a place with tall trees. But not here. I felt—someone. With me. And I felt it again here, but different this time. More distant."

Maz's eyes looked troubled. "Then it has begun," she whispered. "You must trust your feelings, child. When they call to you, answer. It is the Force speaking through you." She opened her mouth again, as if poised to say something else, when there was a clatter near the door and pale alien with two stalk-like antennae peered into the room.

"Sorry to interrupt, Maz," he panted, looking rather disheveled. "Bar fight."

Maz tssked angrily and rose from her seat. "Remain here," she told Rey. "I'll be back shortly."

The two swept out of the room.

Rey huddled in her chair, brushing away the last of her tears. She wasn't willing to believe that her parents wouldn't return to her. But if Maz was right, perhaps they couldn't. Perhaps they needed her help.

She stood from her chair, feeling incredibly restless. She would have to convince Han to help her search. She felt a bolt of shame as the realized how distracted she had become by the travel and adventure aboard the Falcon. Rather than enjoying Cloud City, she should have been pressing Han to make contact with Senator Organa regarding her parents.

She circled the room once, hands lightly brushing over the objects on the shelves, before her feet took her to the door. The seconds ticked past silently as she glanced first one direction and then the other. Something pulled her towards the gloom of the corridor opposite the stairs, something that brushed on the edges of her mind. She was filled with the unreasonable certainty that she needed to go there.

Maz had told her to stay in the room. But Maz had also told her to listen to her feelings. _Don't be ridiculous,_ she told herself. _The Force doesn't talk to desert sandrats like you._

But the pull wouldn't stop, and the longer Rey tried to resist it, the more difficult it became. She swore she could hear a voice, crying, from the end of the hallway. Begging someone to _come back come back come back._

Perhaps if she just took a few steps in that direction…her feet stumbled forward, taking her into the hall. Glancing back over her shoulder to check that no one was coming down the stairs, Rey crept quietly into the shadows.

The walls to either side were rough and made of stone, with cobwebs growing in the junction between wall and ceiling, and stretching over the dim light fixtures. Rey passed two doors on the right without glancing inside. The voice grew louder until finally it fell completely silent as she stopped outside a third door, to the left. Placing a hand on the frame, she knew she was in the right place.

The room was dominated by shelves stacked with antiques and bits of junk—spare parts, an old vase, and a few chairs. She wandered deeper into the expansive room, passing through dust moats cast by light streaming through windows located near the ceiling. She stopped in front of a low table topped by a small wooden chest. Its iron clasp beckoned to her. The voice was back now, and it was _coming from the chest._ But this time, even more disturbingly, it was _her_ voice.

Rey extended a single hand over the box but hesitated without touching it. The whole world was thrumming now. Whatever resided in the container before her was practically pressing into her down-turned palm, like the air surrounding it had acquired a second heartbeat. She was terrified to touch it, but she realized that the thought of turning around and leaving the room without exploring further was even more unbearable.

Reluctantly, impatiently, she lowered her hand to the wood of the chest. The voice stopped. Swallowing, Rey pushed back the latch and lifted the lid of the box. Before her, nestled on a bed of folded brown cloth, was cylindrical silver object. It looked slightly like a blaster—sleek and weaponized—but with no obvious trigger. There was a grip, however, that looked as if it were suited for a hand much larger than hers. Rey's fingers begged to touch the object.

Slowly, inexorably, her hand drifted towards it. _Just do it,_ she told herself. _Hurry, before Maz comes back._

Rey's thumb brushed over the object, and the world went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! A little note on how this story is going to roll-I know the description says "Romance/Adventure" (because that is where this story is going) but it might be a hot sec before the romance happens. I was originally playing around with the idea of skipping a few years ahead, but I really want to take some time developing younger-Rey and younger-Ben.
> 
> Last thing-as you've probably noticed by now, I'm trying to include some song lyrics with each chapter. If you're into that kind of thing, go ahead and give the song a listen before or after you read the chapter. No pressure, though! If you have any other songs that you think fit the tone of the story, feel free to suggest them! After watching TROS I sadly listened to a bunch of reylo playlists to cope with my angst and sadness. It's a vibe.
> 
> Also, last thing (I promise)-many of Maz's quotes are probably pretty recognizable from TFA-I wasn't sure how to denote that, but just as a disclaimer (for anyone that didn't recognize them), a big chunk of that section is *not* my writing.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


	3. Half-Truths and Revelations

Chapter 3: Half-Truths and Revelations

While collecting the stars, I connected the dots.

I don't know who I am, but now I know who I'm not.

I'm just a curious speck that got caught up in orbit,

Like a magnet it beckoned my metals toward it.

-Jupiter, Sleeping at Last

* * *

_23 ABY_

* * *

_When Rey's eyes flickered open, she was in a dark space. Cracked, dry earth pressed up against her feet, and an inky black ceiling loomed over her. In the distance a line of dim light traced an invisible horizon._

_Without warning, a bolt of molten blue lightning rent the air before her, illuminating for a moment a deep chasm in the ground. Blinded by the light she staggered back, left with the vague impression of a massive face carved in slick, icy stone. The earth began to shake and rubble rained down from above. Everything tilted sideways—_

_—and suddenly Rey was spread-eagled on the ground, rain battering down around her. She used her hands to push herself upright, staggering and sloshing through puddles illuminated in the flickering orange glow of flames—flames that were engulfing a great burning citadel. Ribbons of fire had spread into the magnificent trees adjacent to the structure, lighting their crowns like so many deadly candelabra. Feet away, a robed figure hunched over the earth, moaning in anguish. He lifted a hand to the metal carapace of a silver astromech droid, revealing fingers that were formed of durasteel and appeared grossly macabre in the flickering light. The figure's head began to turn towards Rey, but just as she was about to view his face—_

_—her vision shifted and she was staring at a slightly younger version of herself whose frightfully delicate arm was caught in the grasp of Unkar Plutt's meaty fist._

_"No!" screamed the younger Rey, her voice cracking as she struggled to escape Plutt. "Come back! Please, come back!"_

_Rey followed her younger counterpart's gaze, taking in the sandy dunes of Jakku and the shape of a boxy ship lifting away from the planet, its engines roaring as it fought gravity in pursuit of one of the system's two suns. Although the ship grew smaller, young-Rey's cries only grew louder, thrumming painfully through the air in a discordant song of pain._

_The air was darkening as the sun drew down to a flickering point of light. Rey turned back to comfort the screaming girl beside her, but she was gone, and Rey was alone in a dark forest. Before her stood a strangely familiar young man with haunted eyes, a raw but healing wound splitting his face into halves._

_"I am nothing," he whispered softly, his dark eyes meeting hers in a silent plea. "But not when I am with you."_

_The mans' voice called to Rey, echoing off the empty spaces in her chest like the clear music of water flowing through a dry desert canyon. And his pain—his pain rattled her to her very marrow. It was_ her _pain; she raised her hand to her cheek, half expecting it to come away sticky with blood._

_Instead, she felt only the dampness of saltwater._

_With a sob Rey stepped forward, reaching out to touch, but just as her fingers contacted the man's arm, he disappeared in a swirl of smoke. In his place towered the shape of a dark and unnatural edifice, its jagged architecture sending a shock of hopelessness into her chest. Images flashed before her—a long corridor, a throne room, and a hammer and anvil. Atop the anvil rested a black mask—half constructed and rimmed with silver tracery that shimmered in the dusky light. It had dark pits for eyes that rose up to swallow. She tried to run, tripped, and—_

_—_ landed on her backside in the empty corridor of Maz's castle.

Pulse hammering in her ears and throat, Rey scrambled to her feet and backed away from the door frame. She could still see the innocuous table with its simple wooden chest. The lid had slipped shut and she could no longer see the weapon within, but she could still feel it calling to her, the echo of its touch still lingering on her fingertips.

"Rey?"

Her head snapped to the side, taking in Maz's slight figure moving hesitantly towards her down the long hall.

"W-what is that?" Rey stammered, pointing through the open door. "That thing, in the chest?"

Maz let out a heavy sigh, pushing her lenses back and drawing near to Rey. Her eyes were much smaller without their magnification, two shrunken points in a wide, wrinkled face. "It calls to you, doesn't it, child?" she said, taking one of Rey's hands between both of hers. "The lightsaber."

An electric current shot down Rey's spine at the word. _Lightsaber._

"That saber was once the weapon of a great Jedi," Maz continued, in response to Rey's unspoken question. "One of the very greatest. But you must know child, that the higher you stand, the further you have to fall. You may know him by the name he took later, after he was claimed by the dark side: Darth Vader."

Rey shivered. She knew the name—everyone knew the name. She had heard legends of Vader's fall from the light, of his reign of terror as the right hand of the Emperor, Lord of the Sith.

"That weapon…" she whispered. "It's killed people. Many people. It showed me things…visions. Why did it call to me?" Her bottom lip trembled slightly despite her attempts to control it.

Maz squeezed Rey's hand gently. "Yes, it has," she admitted. "But it has also been used for good. It belonged to another, before it came into my possession: Luke Skywalker, he who restored balance to the Force. So, you see, its calling to you is not so very frightening. The blade was forged by a creature of the light, and although he fell, it still carries the memory of that goodness in it."

Rey used her free hand to dash away a rogue tear that had slipped free from her lashes. "But the things it showed me…they were awful. They weren't real, were they?"

"There, there, child," Maz said comfortingly, stroking Rey's hair once. "Only time can tell us the answer to that question. Be wary not to place too much stock in visions—that way lies madness. A partial truth revealed can be a dangerous thing without context."

Rey nodded, withdrawing her hand to scrub at her other cheek briskly. "Does it speak to everyone like that?" she asked.

Maz had been serious before, but now her countenance grew almost grim. "No," she said. "It does not. You, my child, are very special indeed. That lightsaber is yours, if you want it."

"What would I do with it?" Rey asked. "I'm no Jedi."

A fraction of the strain in Maz's eyes seemed to dissipate. "Indeed, you are not. And yet…perhaps you will allow me to keep it here, for you. Should you find yourself in need of a weapon, with nowhere else to turn, it may call to you again."

Rey shrugged uncertainly, just as Han's voice echoed down the corridor, calling her name. She glanced up abruptly and caught sight of the former smuggler and his Wookie friend striding towards them.

Maz stepped closer and squeezed Rey's wrist tightly. "Perhaps it is best that you do not share what you have seen here," she whispered lowly. "Han is not Force-sensitive as we are. He may not understand. Besides, it can be dangerous to share visions with those they concern."

Rey blinked in confusion. "Force-sensitive? But I'm not—"

And then Han was upon them. "What are you two doing all the way down here?" he asked grumpily. "Giving her a tour of the dungeons, are we Maz?"

"Just showing her all that Takodana has to offer," their host replied breezily, releasing Rey's arm and patting her gently on the shoulder. "Let's be off now—luncheon awaits. Oh, Chewie, it _is_ good to see you."

* * *

For the second time in as many days, Rey was treated to a meal the likes of which she had never before witnessed. The table was covered in bowls practically overflowing with fruits at the peak of ripeness, platters of savory meats and loaves of warm, fresh bread.

"Eat up girl," Maz demanded, eyeing Rey's skinny frame critically. "And have seconds."

The pirate queen of Takodana was quick to engage in a rapid-fire conversation—spoken entirely in Wookie—with Chewbacca. This left Han and Rey free to partake of the hearty fare, a task that Han set to almost religiously.

Rey perked up when Maz switched back to their own language to address Han. "Really, the number of smuggler ships passing through this watering hole has dropped precipitously in the past year. Something is out there—something dark enough that even smugglers are wary of space travel. I got a crew in from the Unknown Regions just last week—said they lost their captain, but wouldn't say how. Told me they'd never go back." Her eyes, magnified once more behind thick lenses, scrutinized Han's face.

If she was expecting a reaction, she didn't get one. Han deliberately washed down a bite of bread with drink before responding. "Maz, you know I don't put stock in superstitious smuggler-talk. Those crews are afraid of everything—including each other. Under the New Republic it's harder to make a living as a smuggler—I know that better than anyone." Here he grinned wryly over at Chewie, as if sharing a private joke. "It doesn't mean the bogeyman is gathering his forces in the far reaches of the galaxy."

Maz clicked her tongue in annoyance. "You would do well to listen to stirrings." She made eye contact with Rey. "Men. Half the time they can't see what's standing right in front of them."

Rey hid a smile behind her hand. She liked Maz's dry sense of humor, but she was also indebted to Han and felt guilty for appreciating that humor at his expense.

Han didn't seem irritated however, and only rolled his eyes good-naturedly before returning to his meal. Chewie picked up his conversation with Maz and Rey thought she caught a few words that sounded like "family" and "home." It made her wonder if Chewbacca, like Han, had a family of his own, separate from his role as a rebellion hero.

Rey had just cleaned her plate for the second time when Maz's head jerked up suddenly from its position resting against her closed fist. "Ah," she said. "They're here."

Seconds later the main doors to the tavern opened with a _woosh_ , letting in a corona of bright light that backlit the two figures standing at its threshold. The first figure stepped forward smoothly, the other bobbed robotically behind. Han stood abruptly.

"Leia?"

As the doors swished shut behind them, cutting out the light, Rey was able to make out the features of the newcomers. One was a middle-aged woman with streaks of gray in her long, braided hair. Her face was older than it had appeared in Han's photograph, but it was still clear to Rey that she was Senator Leia Organa, princess of the rebellion.

Near her shoulder stood a tall golden protocol droid, its casings polished until they shone. "Why, Master Solo," the droid exclaimed, stepping forward between Senator Organa and Han. "How lovely it is to see you!"

"Good to see you, Threepio," said Han, in a tone that Rey guessed might have been less mild had he not looked slightly worried, as if he had been caught in an incriminating position. He moved across the room towards his wife, dodging the droid and reaching out to sweep her into a hug. She returned the gesture smoothly and then drew back to swat his arm.

"What did I tell you about that cruiser?" she demanded. "You can't just leave things willy-nilly whenever the fancy takes you."

"Yes, dear," Han said apologetically, taking a step back. "But you see—"

"Don't give me excuses," the senator said. "You go through ships like a bantha goes through fodder. It's a miracle you kept the Falcon in one piece all these years."

"Yes, but—"

"Chewie, it really is lovely to see you." She stepped past Han resolutely to embrace the Wookie, who had left his seat and ambled over to the pair quietly. Chewie murmured a few words in Wookie and Leia drew back in surprise.

"A girl? On Jakku?"

"That's what I was trying to tell you," Han grumbled. "We ran into some trouble on Jakku. Someone had set an ignition lock on the Falcon so we had to enlist help from a local. The local law enforcement caught wind of the situation and we had to make a quick getaway."

Senator Organa's face softened as she looked towards the table where Rey and Maz were still seated. "Oh dear," she said.

Rey, who had initially been struck dumb by the presence of another one of her greatest heroes, quickly scrambled to her feet and cut what she hoped was a passable bow.

"Oh dear," the senator said again, but in a rather different tone of voice. "No need for that, young lady. Come, let's sit. Maz, would you mind if we drew up some extra chairs?"

Maz gestured to the two chairs that had already arrived at the hands of a waiting service droid. "Please, sit." Rey was struck again by the thought that nothing seemed to faze their host. "It has been many a year since I have seen _you,_ princess," Maz continued. "What brings you to Takodana?"

Senator Organa sank into the offered chair, looking rather uncomfortable, as if she had news that would be better shared in private. At Maz's pointed look, she sighed. "I was looking for Han," she admitted. "There's been…news, from Luke."

Han, who had just seated himself to his wife's right, glanced up sharply. "What do you mean, news?" he asked, looking as though the only kind of news he expected from his old friend was of the unpleasant variety.

"Later," the senator said briskly. "Please, introduce me to your young friend."

Rey blushed a brilliant shade of red and stared at her lap, pleased at the idea of being anything more than a hired hand aboard Han's ship.

"Leia, this is Rey. Rey, this is my wife, Leia. Ben's mother."

Senator Organa's brow furrowed, as though she was completely unaccustomed to being introduced as anyone's mother.

"A pleasure to meet you," she said, extending a hand bearing a single ring. "You must be very brave to have gotten involved in my husband's mischief."

Rey smiled shyly, and placed her hand in the senator's. "Not so very brave, my lady."

The senator's face froze for an instant, her mask slipping to reveal an expression of shock similar to the look one might assume after turning over a harmless rock to reveal a poisonous adder. It lasted only a half a second before she covered it with a warm smile, holding onto Rey's hand a heartbeat longer than strictly necessary.

"Who are your parents, young Rey? Surely they must be missing you back on Jakku."

Rey's eyes clouded and she looked down into her lap briefly before making eye contact with Maz across the table. The old alien was watching her intently. "They left me," she whispered. "I was waiting for them to come back, but after I helped steal the Falcon my master was very angry, so I had to leave with Mr. Solo and Chewbacca. I was hoping—well Han said—that maybe you could help me find them."

Maz let out a quiet sigh full of emotion and looked away. A stone of guilt settled in Rey's chest.

Senator Organa swallowed once, glancing over at Han. "Well…yes, I suppose I could contact a few people," she conceded, reaching out to touch Rey's arm gently, as if she thought the girl might break. "Is there anything you can tell me about them? Anything that might be useful in our search?"

Rey screwed her eyes shut and thought very hard. Memories of her father were all but absent—she guessed that he hadn't been around as much as her mother, who she remembered only as a tall figure with soft skin and warm arms. She opened her eyes, feeling defeated. These details would not be enough for the senator to begin her search. Then—

"I know the ship that they left in," Rey said, excitement creeping into her voice. "I can draw it for you!"

Han fished into one of the front pockets of his jacket and removed a beat-up ink pen and tattered notebook, from which he tore a page. "Here you go, kid," he said, offering them to Rey. "Have at it."

Rey positioned the paper carefully in front of her and held the pen in her clumsy grip. Painstakingly, she traced out the shape of the ship from her vision, paying careful attention to its oval cross-section and sharp tail fins. As the drawing unfolded, the golden protocol droid leaned forward, surveying her work.

"My," he said finally. "That looks just like a Sublight Products Corporation design. I haven't seen one of that sort in nearly three decades."

"Subpro?" Han asked. "Are you sure, Threepio?"

"Assuming that this replication is reliable, I would classify the ship as Subpro with eighty-eight point three-six-eight percent certainty," the droid reeled off. "Given the unpracticed nature of the rendition, my final certainty comes to—"

"Alright, that's enough," Han cut in. "Subpro. Very interesting. Anything else, kid?"

Rey shook her head. "Only what I already told you. That they left me there three years ago."

General Organa seemed vaguely interested by this admission. "Three years ago, you're certain?"

Rey nodded solemnly. "Yes. One thousand, one hundred, and seventeen days ago to be exact."

"You sound like the droid, kid," Han teased, jerking his head at Threepio, who somehow managed to look offended despite his utterly expressionless face.

"That's a long time to wait for someone who may never return," Maz said, finally breaking the silence.

"I'm good at waiting," Rey said defensively. "I have lots of practice."

Maz didn't respond at first, but fixed Rey with a look that contained both anxiety and sadness. "Well," she said finally. "It seems my business here is done. I am sure we will meet again, Rey of Jakku. Han, lunch is on me. Feel free to stop by when next you need something, or whenever dear Chewie is feeling lonely."

Tossing a flirtatious wink at the Wookie, the pirate queen stood to her full height of just over four feet and departed into the crowded room.

Senator Organa's eyes were sad as they hovered on Rey's face. She opened her mouth as if to say something, then closed it again and turned to Han. "What _are_ you doing on Takodana?" she inquired. "A bit out of the way, isn't it?"

Han grumbled in a way that to Rey indicated his supreme discomfort with the direction of the conversation. "Picked up a shipment for Luke," he finally admitted. "I was hoping Maz could get it on a freighter out to Yavin 4."

The senator blinked at Han incredulously. "Were you avoiding visiting our son?"

"It's not as if you ever visit him," Han snapped defensively.

"Well, I don't have any reason to," Senator Organa responded, equally defensively. "I can't believe you would pay a stranger to deliver a shipment too our son and my brother when you could do it yourself."

"Ben doesn't want to see me!" Han snapped, clearly forgetting that he and his wife had an audience. "He made that quite clear after I allowed you to send him off to Luke."

"Oh, so it's my fault, is it?" the senator responded, voice rising in volume. "Why you half-witted, scruffy looking—"

Chewie cleared his throat in a fashion that suggested this sort of bickering was a common occurrence between the two.

"I'm very sorry," Senator Organa said apologetically, smoothing her already immaculate hair. Rey was uncertain whether the apology was for Han, or her onlookers. "I don't know what came over me. Regardless, this is why I needed to find you. I received word from Luke just yesterday. He said Ben has been acting strangely, and that his Force signature has changed."

"Strangely, how?" Han asked suspiciously. "And what does that mean, about his Force signature?"

"Luke said Ben seems…lighter than before. As if a weight has been lifted from him. And his Force signature is less conflicted, less unpredictable. It's good news—and Luke suggested that we might want to visit him now, while it lasts. Just think Han—maybe he's his old self again, like he was before the—before."

Rey's stomach flipped slightly at the turn of the conversation. She was curious to hear more about Ben, but the senator's words sent a chill down her spine. What had happened to the serious young boy from Han's picture, the one who had carved his letters into the Falcon?

The senator's hopeful countenance wasn't quite mirrored in her husband's eyes, although Han looked rather less grim than he had when the conversation had begun. "Leia, our son has never been filled with light," he reminded her gently. "Even as a child he had a quietness, a loneliness in him." He glanced down at Rey, as if recalling suddenly that she was still present.

"I _know_ Han, but there was a time—a time when he was happy, and complete. Don't you remember? Can't we just hope for that again?"

Han rested his hand on his wife's shoulder. "Of course we can, princess."

The senator's face twisted with a strange emotion and she looked to the side, blinking rapidly in the way one does to fend off unwelcome tears. "Well then," she said. "We'll go. And even if Ben doesn't want to see us—well—we would need to go for Rey, anyways."

At this, all four of Senator Organa's companions looked askance at her.

Chewie finally broke the silence with a deep rumble. _Why does little quicksilver need to visit master brightsword?_

"Wha—you mean you don't know?" the senator asked, glancing between Han and Rey. "Why, it's practically pouring off of her! But then, how could you know? I'm only surprised that Maz didn't say anything."

Her dark eyes captured Rey's, their depths filled with a mixture of warmth and trepidation. "Dear, this may come as a bit of a shock to you, but you have the right to know. You are very strong in the Force. I could sense your presence before I entered the room. Even now it's pressing up from inside you—untapped, untrained—but powerful. With the guidance of my brother…who knows what you could become."

Rey sat frozen, staring at Senator Organa.

"What?" Han snapped in exasperation, severing the mounting tension. "This is my new mechanic; you can't just whisk her off to go train as a Jedi based on some _feeling_."

The senator's eyes flashed. "It's not just _some feeling,_ Han," she responded. "I've explained this to you before. The Force is as real to she and I as your right arm is to you. It's like another limb—just because _you_ can't see it doesn't mean it isn't there."

"But I can't see it either," Rey broke in, finally finding her voice. "I've never used the Force—or whatever you call it. I'm just a scavenger."

Senator Organa placed her hand over Rey's gently. "The Force isn't something you see with your eyes," she explained. "It is something within you—or better yet, _you_ are within _it._ It flows through each and every one of us. Force-sensitives are people who can feel the force, and channel it, like a wire channels electricity. It is not uncommon for young Force-users to be unaware of their abilities; it is not a talent that is spoken of often. Great superstition surrounds its use, and those who do not know the ways of the Force often fear it. Others may even seek to exploit its power for themselves."

"Well isn't that what you're doing?" Han fumed. "Have you ever considered that every Force-sensitive kid in the galaxy doesn't want to put her life on the line to join a mysterious cult of men in robes?"

"I think you know that I've considered that at length," his wife sniffed, "considering that I never became a full Jedi."

"You can use the Force?" Rey exclaimed, wide-eyed.

The senator's face softened again as she looked down at Rey. "Yes, dear. My brother, Luke, and I have always been in touch with the Force. I believe it played a role in our reunion after so many years of separation. I trained with him shortly after his defeat of Emperor Palpatine, but in the end I surrendered that path to become a senator. It was my true calling."

Rey looked up at the older woman in awe. "Does that mean—did you have a lightsaber? Could you move things without touching them? Did you travel the galaxy?"

Senator Organa smiled gently. "Yes," she answered. "But being a Jedi isn't all about glory and adventure. It is a hard way of life, and one that shouldn't be chosen lightly. Which is _why_ ," she said, looking pointedly at Han, "I'm not suggesting that you become a Jedi. There are plenty of Force-sensitives who live their entire lives without considering that route. Take Maz for example. She is highly attuned to the Force, but has never lifted a Jedi weapon in all of her many years. The reason I mentioned taking you to see Luke is a matter control. You are so young, and that kind of power can be difficult for a child—especially an untrained child—to handle. As a Jedi, my brother is one of the only Force-sensitives to have developed a form of discipline that keeps his abilities in check. Meeting with him would be a huge benefit to you—both in terms of your own safety, and the safety of those around you."

Rey looked over at Han and Chewie, suddenly nervous. Was the senator right? Was there some sort of untapped potential within her, waiting to spill out and harm anyone she came in contact with? What if she had already hurt her new friends?

"I'll go," she said quickly. "If it's alright with Mr. Solo. I think you're wrong about me, my lady, but if what you say is true, I don't want to cause any trouble. And I would—I would love to meet Master Skywalker." She gave voice to this last part quietly, as if worried that her secret wish would change the senator's mind.

"It's settled then," Senator Organa said warmly. "We'll leave in the morning for Yavin 4. We can take the Falcon—I'll have my guard return my own shuttle to Naboo."

Han didn't look altogether pleased with this arrangement, and as his wife hurried off to finalize plans, he took Rey aside gently, kneeling in front of her so that they could speak eye to eye.

"Listen, kid," he told her seriously. "I know this is a lot for you. A couple of days ago you were living in some Force-forsaken wasteland in the desert, and now Leia wants to drag you off to Yavin 4 to meet what's left of the Jedi. But listen here—you just say the word, and Chewie and I will have you out of there faster than you can say bantha spit, got it?"

Rey's heart swelled with gratitude and she felt her lower lip tremble. Without warning she launched herself at him, throwing both arms around his neck in a fierce hug that caught him off guard. Han rocked back on his heels, returning the gesture with an awkward pat on the back.

"Okay, kid," he said. "Okay. Just remember, you hear me? Any time you want to leave, we will. Now pull it together, enough of this sappy shit."

Rey leaned back, a huge grin splitting her face. "Yes sir, Mr. Solo," she said.

"Enough with the titles," Han said, pushing himself to his feet, knees clicking in protest. "My name is Han."

"Yes sir, Mr. Han."

* * *

From the moment that the Falcon broke into Yavin 4's atmosphere, Rey's skin began to buzz.

It was similar to the feeling she had experienced on Takodana as she ran her fingers through the soft grass and smiled up at the swaying trees, and yet so very different. As the Falcon lost altitude, she began to understand why. The trees on Yavin 4 were ancient—mighty behemoths that had withstood the test of centuries.

But there was more to it than that. Rey felt as though she drifted on the edge of a mighty whirlpool whose swirling was drawing her inexorably closer to its center. The thought of turning away or drawing back never occurred to her. Whatever lay at the center of that whirlpool called to her more strongly than Darth Vader's lightsaber ever could have.

"You okay, kid?" Han said, his head craned over his shoulder. He sat in the pilot's chair once more, Chewie in the copilot seat, while Rey and Senator Organa were strapped in behind the pair. Threepio was in low power mode in the belly of the ship, having claimed that space travel made him dizzy.

 _I could rewire your circuits for you_ , Rey had suggested kindly, drawing a look of sheer horror from the protocol droid. She hadn't offered again.

Blinking herself back to the present, Rey gave Han what she hoped was a convincing smile. "Of course," she said, trying not to fidget in her seat.

Han lowered the Falcon in a gentle spiral towards an opening in the mighty trees. There—towering in its own right, but still dwarfed beneath the forest's canopy, was a magnificent temple. Rey was immediately transfixed by its sweeping dome and many spires. The structure seemed to vibrate with hidden power. Whatever was calling to Rey, it was here.

On Takodana, Rey had flung herself from her seat and raced out into the sunlight. Now, she forced herself to rise slowly and steadily, taking her place a step behind Han and Leia as they prepared to disembark. A worm of anxiety squeezed its way into the back of her mind. All of her life she had been searching for something, waiting for someone. What if the thing she was looking for wasn't here? Equally terrifying, what if it was?

Taking a deep breath, Rey slipped her hand into Chewbacca's offered paw and descended onto the waiting earth.

The temple itself, when they entered, was surprisingly silent. No Jedi drilling in saber forms, no shouting or Force-wielding warriors as Rey had expected. The quiet was so intense that it seemed to absorb sound, muffling their footsteps and casting their voices into uneasy whispers. Something about the quality of the silence was peaceful. It begged Rey to close her eyes and simply _listen._

A series of beeps and whirs broke the stillness as a silver and blue droid rolled into sight. Rey started. It was the astromech droid from her vision.

"Why, R2D2!" Threepio exclaimed happily, shuffling forward from his position behind Rey and Chewie. "How delightful it is to see you! We are looking for Master Luke."

The astromech let out another series of whistles.

Threepio turned to Senator Organa. "R2D2 tells me that we have arrived during the meditation hour," he translated. "Master Luke is in the eastern courtyard. R2 has offered to take us there."

Han gestured for the droids to lead the way, and they trundled away down an empty corridor, Threepio keeping up a constant stream of chatter that only cut off when they reached a large set of blast doors.

"R2D2 says that Master Luke is through here," Threepio explained. "He requests that you enter silently, as Master Luke is likely very focused and should not be startled."

The doors slid open soundlessly and Han and Leia stepped through, followed closely by Rey and Chewie.

Rey's first recollection of the courtyard was that it was beautiful. A circular pool of flowing water dominated its center— _like a whirlpool,_ she thought—and its edges were decorated with vining plants, creeping effortlessly up the stone walls and disguising their mortar-work in a mass of foliage.

Sitting cross-legged on the edge of the pool, with his back to them, was a figure in a sand-colored tunic. His hands rested lightly on his knees, fingers uncurled so that his palms faced upwards.

Rey shifted slightly to the side, trying to see more around Han's leg, and caught sight of a second figure, across the water from the first. His head was bowed, revealing a head of dark, wavy hair that shielded the rest of his face. His shoulders were far broader than those of the first man, and he wore a dark blue tunic, sleeves rolled up to bare his forearms. Rey's heart made a frantic attempt to throw itself out of her chest. She could feel it flopping inside of her like a fish without water. _Look up,_ she begged silently. _Please look up._

As if she had spoken aloud, the second man lifted his head, and his eyes met hers across the space between them. They were dark, almost as dark as his mother's, but the shape belonged to Han. Rey's ears roared, and she swore she felt something shift in the region of her sternum. The whirlpool had become a hurricane, and it battered at her, willing her forward. She took a single step, passing between Han and Leia.

Ben Solo's gaze didn't waver. His expression was a mixture of anguish and something else. Surprise, perhaps?

She could feel it again—the presence brushing against hers. Not suffocating, not smothering, but gentle, with a touch so indescribably delicate that she could barely feel it, despite the way is surrounded her. The world was spinning, and she realized with a start that Ben— _Ben—_ was on his feet. Something about his height drew forth a memory. Even without the scar bisecting his face, she would know the young man from her vision anywhere.

The rushing in Rey's ears was growing louder. Her vision constricted to a point and she felt everything tipping…tipping…tipping.

She landed on something soft, and her last memory before her consciousness winked out was the sound of a heartbeat thumping in time with her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for my second cliff-hanger in a row! I'm truly awful. I hope you at least enjoyed this tiny snippet of our favorite edgelord. Whoops. More to come soon, though!
> 
> As always, let me know if you have questions or comments. I very much appreciate your readership and comments so far. You truly are such a kind group of people, so thank you!
> 
> -A


	4. Disequilibrium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ben Solo has a very confusing day.

Chapter 4: Disequilibrium

"The devil's on your shoulder  
The stranger's in your head  
As if you don't remember  
As if you can forget  
It's only been a moment  
It's only been a lifetime  
But tonight you're a stranger  
Some silhouette."

-Silhouette, Aquilo

* * *

_23 ABY_

* * *

Ben Solo was unbalanced.

It had started during his afternoon meditation with Master Skywalker. The two had a standing appointment—every week they met by the pool in the eastern courtyard to attune themselves to the Force. It was one of Skywalker's favorite locations in the temple; he had once explained that the sound of flowing water brought him a sense of balance.

Ben had tried to hide his eye roll as he had settled cross-legged opposite the Jedi master.

The mandatory engagement was his uncle's way of recognizing their familial bond without actually having to interact with Ben. It suited them both well, although Ben hated how it elicited the same familiar twinge of rejection that surfaced every time he thought of his parents.

Meditation was difficult for the young Solo. Silencing his own churning thoughts was hard enough, but the added noise of eleven inquisitive padawans poking around in their own meditative spaces—sometimes attempting to breach his mind's barriers out of curiosity—provided yet another challenge. Even the Force itself was loud, battering at his exposed psyche as if he lacked some integral part—a rudder, so to speak—that would allow him to navigate its flow smoothly.

 _You feel too deeply,_ Skywalker had told him once. _Your thoughts are in a disarray. You must create order, control your emotions. Let them float away until you are nothing but an observer._

The problem was that Ben's emotions didn't always feel like his own. They were erratic, and often misplaced. He could be practicing saber forms one moment, and filled with a deep, aching sadness in the next. Or he could be focused on mending a torn tunic when suddenly an overwhelming rage would storm out of nowhere before slipping away into the dark recesses of his mind without explanation.

 _Learn to control it,_ his master demanded. _You must develop discipline._

 _To feel emotion is to be human,_ the voice in his head said comfortingly. _Learn to use your emotions—let them consume you and transport you to new levels of understanding._

The two conflicted messages warred in Ben's mind throughout every waking moment. But which to heed—his detached uncle, or the constant companion of his childhood?

Ben could not remember the first time that the voice had spoken to him. For all he knew, it had always been there, listening at times, absent at others. It soothed his fears, stoked his ambition, and understood him in a way that Leia, Han, and Skywalker never had.

 _You are different,_ the voice whispered. _Stronger than they are. They will never understand what it is like to be you. You and I, we are the same. Destined to be outcasts. Loneliness is the inheritance of all those who wield great power._

Ben had been confused at first. He wasn't sure what power he was supposed to be wielding. But as he aged and the look in his mother's eyes grew more guarded, the discomfort in his father's voice more evident, he began to listen more closely to the only being who claimed to understand him.

 _Who_ are _you?_ Ben had finally had the reason to ask, around the age of seven. _You're not me, are you?_

A cool laugh had echoed in his mind at that. _No, I am not you,_ the voice had answered. _I have never used a name before. But you may call me Snoke._

Snoke was not the ideal companion, but often he was all that Ben had. At times he was almost pleasant to speak with, sharing anecdotes and lessons that had contradicted the many adults who had labelled Ben as an _unreasonably troubled child_ who suffered from _apathy_ and _paranoia;_ Snoke's words gave credence to Ben's increasingly conflicted emotions and long bouts of emptiness, providing him with a fragment of solace in his often isolated life. But as Ben had grown, so had Snoke's temper. His fits of anger, his dislike of Ben's parents, and most of all, his loathing for Skywalker, were grating in their constancy. Ben was certainly willing to acknowledge the imperfections of his parents, and he held no great love for Skywalker, but that animosity felt oddly personal, as if it should belong only to him.

 _Why do_ you _hate them?_ he had once asked.

 _Because they hold you back,_ had come Snoke's response. _They fail to recognize your greatness._

It was moments like these that confused Ben the most. It was intoxicating to finally be recognized—appreciated even—for something outside of his heritage. Furthermore, Snoke was the only one who didn't seem to fear Ben in some capacity, and that trust endeared him to the young man. At the same time, Ben knew that his friend—if he could call Snoke a friend—wasn't being completely honest.

His companion claimed that his intentions were pure—that he only hated Ben's family for the wrongs they had done the boy—but Ben knew differently. His mother had taught him how to detect a lie when he was a small child, and as his connection to the Force had strengthened, so had his ability to sense deceit. Something about Snoke was _slippery_. His words were too perfect, too calculated to be honest. Even worse, his advice wasn't always solid. Sometimes he told Ben to do things that worsened his constant state of unrest—things that went completely against his instincts. These demands were delivered fiercely, and failure was met with disappointment, disgust, and anger, painful in its intensity.

So, although Ben accepted the presence in his mind, he did not always trust it.

Which was why, when another voice had floated into his head during his afternoon of fidgeting and sweating across from Skywalker, he had frozen for a half a second. He knew immediately that the voice speaking _wasn't_ Snoke.

No, Force, this was something much different. It almost felt like he was speaking to himself: _Look up. Please, look up._

But it was also clear that the voice was not his own. It was far too young, too innocent. He wasn't sure how he knew these things, for an unspoken voice didn't have the same quality or tone as a spoken one. He was sure, however, that the voice belonged to someone important. That knowledge didn't stop the quick flare of mistrust that rose unbidden to his mind; if Ben had learned one thing in his eighteen years, it was that trust was a very dangerous thing indeed.

Regardless of his reservations, his reaction to the request was nearly instantaneous. His eyes flashed open, and the sight before him tipped his world on its axis. That was when the unbalance began.

Standing perhaps five meters away, peering from between the legs of several indistinct, taller figures, was a small child. Her bright, hazel eyes were wide with surprise, her lips parted in childlike wonder. She was angelic. Soft strands of dark brown hair hung in wisps around her angular cheeks; the rest was gathered back in three silky buns. Her eyelashes were tangled at the corners, her skin a warm caramel, several shades darker than his own, and she was missing a front tooth.

Ben had seen children before; sometimes he felt he could never escape them. He had to put up with every whining brat that Skywalker brought to the temple for training. They had never held must interest to him, but this girl—he couldn't put his finger on what it was about her—

She took a single, unconscious step forward. The scuff of her feet on the stone floor broke the silence _._ The _silence._

For the first time in his life, Ben Solo's mind was completely quiet.

There were no voices, no crash and roar of the Force battering his defenses, just perfect, blissful _quiet._

He felt the blood leaving his face as he stood in a single, graceful movement. Who was this child? Why was she here? And why _hadn't_ she been here, for the past eighteen years?

The last question felt silly the moment he voiced it in his head, and he brushed it aside like old cobwebs, focusing on projecting a strand of thought towards her, probing gently.

_A blistering desert, the hull of a ruined Star Destroyer, the round curve of the Falcon's underbelly against a clear blue sky. A small alcove, three letters scratched in a child-like hand._

He blinked and recoiled from her mind, uncertain where the memory had come from. It was his own memory—a vision that had come to him in a dream. He wasn't certain how the girl had managed to project it back to him, but he was wary now. He reached out again, hesitantly, and felt her dizziness a moment before she began to sway.

He crossed the space between them faster than he had thought possible, skidding the last few feet on his knees to catch her body just before it hit the ground. The weight of her small frame was almost imperceptible at the same time that it felt as if the weight of the galaxy was pressing down into his arms. She was so _tiny. Fragile,_ he thought. _Vulnerable._ But something about her face spoke of hidden strength despite the slackness of oblivion. The feel of her cradled against his chest sent a fierce surge of protectiveness through him. Something prickled in the back of his mind.

Snoke was coming.

In the past, Ben had greeted Snoke's arrival with varying degrees of enthusiasm. In the young Solo's loneliest days, his companion's voice was a beacon of hope and approval. In times of uncertainty, he was a source of clarifying knowledge and unshakeable resolve. But he could also be erratic, hard-to-please, and aggressive at times. Something in Ben balked at the idea of his unsettling presence coming in contact with the child. This thought confused him even as it frightened him, and he sought vainly to push Snoke away.

But he was already there, rushing into the empty spaces of Ben's mind, summoned no doubt by the surge of his emotions. _Who is this?_ Snoke asked innocently, his voice sending a chill down Ben's spine. He was so rattled by his companion's arrival that he was unable to resist as the girl was lifted out of his arms.

All at once, the noise of the world slammed back in. Ben almost crushed his hands over his ears, despite the knowledge that the cacophony he was experiencing was contained within his own head.

Some of it though, was not.

"Kid!" a voice was shouting. "Leia, what's wrong with her?"

Ben blinked once, twice, trying to throw off the fugue that had crept over his senses. To his shock, a familiar figure was crouching before him, supporting the child's body.

Han Solo had come to Yavin 4, and he had brought company.

The courtyard was suddenly a flurry of movement. Skywalker was on his feet, Chewie was roaring loudly in consternation, and both of Ben's parents were on their knees examining the unconscious girl in Han's arms.

Ben was at a loss. For a moment everything had been clear, and now it all felt disjointed, like he had suddenly been stripped of his sight or equilibrium. Moreover, he was strangely irritated by his separation from the child. He had only meant to prevent her fall—something that any decent person would have done in his place. Initially he had planned to lower her to the ground gently and back away, put some distance between himself and this supremely bewildering situation. Now, however, he felt the strange urge to shove Han aside and make sure the girl was alright. He imagined he could still feel the quick hummingbird throb of her heart against his palm—the one that had been pressed, moments before, between her shoulder blades. He longed to feel it again, at the same time that he loathed the part of himself that had taken such interest in her. Ben curled his fingers into fists and watched helplessly, torn. Leia cast him a single questioning glance before laying a hand across the child's forehead.

"She's fine," Leia proclaimed. "She's just passed out. Luke, is there a place we can lay her down? Poor dear, she's probably exhausted from all this travel. Move over, Ben; lift her up, Han."

The ungainly group shuffled towards the edge of the courtyard, Han bearing his young charge and Skywalker leading. Ben trailed behind, feeling unwelcome but incapable of drifting away.

They took the child to the medical bay, which was manned by the temple's sole medical droid. She was laid down on the crisp white sheets, her small form somehow appearing even smaller in the center of the vast bed. Ben's heart clenched at the sight and he shoved the visceral response into a corner of his mind to be analyzed later.

A flurry of action followed, during which Ben was nudged and shuffled further and further from the patient. He hovered nearby, relying on his height to maintain a clear view and listening to the medical droid's diagnosis—dehydration, shock, and a combination of other factors, including malnutrition and lack of sleep. An IV was inserted into the girl's small arm, making Ben flinch as if the needle had pierced his own skin.

"There also appears to be significant bruising to the upper back and torso," the droid announced clinically. "Large welts may indicate some sort of blunt-force trauma inflicted by—"

"What?" Ben exploded, his temper suddenly flaring. He took a step forward, ready to swat the droid aside with a single hand. "Are you saying she's been beaten?"

The droid's head swiveled to face him—if it could have shrugged, Ben was certain it would have. He felt a sudden surge of hatred for the pile of scrap-metal. "It seems highly likely," the machine continued. "Life history information would aid in further diagnosis." Its head swiveled back towards Han, who was looking down at the girl with an expression of helpless sorrow.

"She's a— _was—_ a slave," he croaked. "Chewie and I found her on Jakku, camped out in the Falcon. She worked for one of the junk traders out there."

Ben felt his rage growing, seething under his skin. He wanted terribly to break something, inflict pain. He was distantly aware of Snoke's growing curiosity, but wasn't able to contemplate it in that moment. "A slave?" he grated out. "She's a child. What kind of person—"

He cut of abruptly, noticing the strange looks he was drawing from his uncle and parents. Even Chewbacca was looking at him with his head cocked slightly to one side in confusion. Ben knew that it wasn't a matter of unprecedented anger—these four were more accustomed to his mood swings than anyone in the galaxy. No, it was the source of his fury that had turned their heads. It was not at all uncharacteristic for him to indulge in anger, but it _was_ uncharacteristic for him to take such furious interest in the wellbeing of a child he didn't know. It wasn't that Ben lacked empathy—he simply wasn't prone to displaying such explosive emotion on behalf of others.

He fell silent, taking a half a step back and lowering his head.

"Well," Skywalker said slowly, drawing the word out into the silence. "Han, perhaps you and Chewie would like to stay here with the girl, see that she finds a familiar face when she wakes. Leia, perhaps you would be kind enough to fill me in on everything that has happened. Ben, with us."

Ben started in surprise. He had expected a dismissal, not an invitation to join his mother and uncle. Nodding sharply, he followed the two as they exited the medical bay. A string of longing seemed to pull him back towards the large bed and its tiny occupant, but the feeling faded as they turned the corner and headed in the direction of Skywalker's study.

The office was another of Skywalker's favorite places. Its large window overlooked the training yard and obstacle course—a fact that the Jedi master took full advantage of while he was trapped at his desk reading correspondence from across the galaxy. Skywalker was accustomed to simple things—his workspace was spacious but spartan, containing a single communications console, a desk adorned with several neatly-stacked files, and a low, round table where he met with visitors and the occasional unruly apprentice in need of discipline. Ben was perfectly familiar with the table, and settled himself next to Leia while Luke set about preparing three cups of a warm herbal tea as was his habit. He distributed the drinks silently before sinking into a chair opposite mother and son.

"Now," he said softly, taking a sip of tea. "Tell me everything you know."

Leia dove straight into the story, explaining to Luke how she had gone to Takodana in search of Han and found him in the company of a young girl whose Force-sensitivity could be detected from afar. She described the girl's request for help, the description of the ship bearing her parents away, and her quiet, resolute personality.

"Rey doesn't believe that she is Force-sensitive," Leia explained. "Until just a few days ago she lived in isolation on Jakku, so it's little surprise to me that she has no knowledge of this part of herself."

 _Rey,_ Ben thought, turning the name over in his mind like a cool, smooth river stone. It felt right, the way it dropped into the silent expanse of emptiness, casting ripples that stirred the soft, dark edges of his consciousness. It captured her well—her radiance, her light.

He shook his head slightly, tuning back into the conversation at hand.

"I thought it best to bring her here. Her connection with the Force is quite powerful for one so young. I expected you would want to meet her," his mother finished.

Skywalker steepled his hands beneath his chin as Leia finished her explanation. "Interesting," he said quietly. "Very interesting. It almost reminds me of another story. Another child found on a lonely desert planet."

Ben narrowed his eyes in confusion. Normally he would have assumed that Skywalker was talking about his own past, but he knew for a fact that his uncle had been nearly a man by the time he had left Tatooine. Besides, there was something about the look the siblings exchanged that told him there was more to this story.

"Leia, the girl's parents—surely you must sense—"

"I know," Ben's mother cut in quickly. "I know, Luke. But she is just a girl."

"She could be—"

"No," Leia said sharply. "No, Luke." Her gaze cut over to Ben, and he knew that she wished he were absent.

 _No such luck, mother_ , he thought. _Spit it out._

"It is out of her control," Leia whispered, looking down. "She has lived a hard life, even I can see it. She needs someone to care for her, to guide her. Surely you of all people can understand that."

Luke sighed heavily, gazing down into his cup for an interminable moment. "Fine," he said at last. "She can stay here, at least until she's healthy. There is much I can teach her. If she decides to remain with us, I won't turn her away."

"Thank you," Leia breathed. "You won't regret this."

"Only time will tell us that," Luke said cryptically, rising from his seat. His gaze drifted to Ben, who had been following the conversation intently. _Why don't they trust her?_ he wondered. _She's just a kid. Skywalker brings plenty of children here for training. I'm one of them._

"Leia, perhaps you'll give Ben and I a moment," his uncle said mildly. "There are a few things he and I need to discuss. Perhaps we can meet you and Han in the medical bay in half an hour? I'm sure you would both like to greet your son properly."

A look close to guilt crossed Leia's face as she stood to leave. Her hand dropped onto Ben's shoulder, but somehow the gesture felt empty after Skywalker's gentle rebuke. He refused to meet her gaze.

At the sound of the door closing behind his twin, the Jedi master settled back into his seat, interlocking his fingers beneath his chin once more and scrutinizing his nephew momentarily. "Explain."

Ben let out a slow breath. He had known this interrogation was coming from the moment Skywalker had asked him to join them in the study. He simply hadn't expected such a frontal approach. His master was usually more subtle than this.

Painfully aware of the lingering presence of Snoke in his mind, Ben did his best to tamp down on his emotions. He shrugged noncommittally. "What is there to explain? I felt her reach out to me through the Force. Surely you heard it, too?"

Skywalker's eyes scanned Ben's face slowly for the telltale signs of a lie. Finding nothing, he shifted his posture, laying both hands on the armrests of his chair. "I heard nothing," he admitted. "I could feel them coming of course—Leia, Han, Chewie, and a fourth presence. I knew the moment that they stepped into the courtyard. But aside from the girl's unusual affinity for the Force…nothing. I heard nothing."

Ben's eyebrows shot up. "Nothing? That can't be possible." The only being he had ever met who could speak into a single mind at will was Snoke—surely a tiny child who lacked all knowledge of the Force could not have replicated such a feat. Surely her silent plea hadn't just been meant for him.

"What am I supposed to have heard?" Skywalker asked, a look of grim humor lifting the edges of his mouth.

"She—she showed me something. One of my own memories," Ben said, choosing to keep her desperate call to himself, for now. "When I reached out to her. She showed me the vision that I had—the one about the Millennium Falcon, that I shared with you."

"Fascinating," Ben's master whispered quietly, leaning forward. "You are sure it was your memory, not hers?"

"How could it have been her memory?" Ben asked. "It was _my_ vision."

"You heard what Han said," Skywalker countered. "That girl has been living on the Falcon in the middle of the desert on Jakku. Perhaps she was the source of the vision to begin with."

"That's ridiculous," Ben cut in, feeling Snoke's sleepy interest growing in the back corners of his mind. "Jakku is in the Western Reaches. Are you suggesting that an untrained child sent me a Force-vision from the other side of the galaxy?"

Skywalker rose from his seat abruptly and began to pace. "That is exactly what I am suggesting," he said. "You can feign ignorance all you like, Ben, but I know you can feel what I do. That child—she is not ordinary. I haven't seen raw power like that since—"

He broke off abruptly, looking at Ben strangely.

"It doesn't matter," Ben snapped, a migraine beginning to build behind his eyes. He felt shaky and scared. He wanted desperately to return to the medical bay and wait until the child woke, but a sick feeling was taking over his gut the more Skywalker spoke. He wanted desperately to hear the words, to take them in and beg for more, but with his unwelcome guest still watchfully poised in the background, he was struck with the sudden terror that his uncle was about to reveal something devastating.

Ben's sudden mistrust of Snoke was not without precedent—he knew his companion well enough to perceive that no piece of information would be left unused, no stone unturned, if Snoke thought it could be used as leverage. Ben didn't understand the strange turmoil of emotions that the girl evoked in him, and until he did, he wanted to keep her to himself. Furthermore, he was convinced that Snoke knew something about the child— _about Rey—_ that he was refusing to share. Although his companion was currently affecting an air of innocence with regards to the small girl who had stumbled into Skywalker's temple, Ben knew the truth. As he had cradled the child against his chest, feeling her Force signature stream through him like a soothing wave, Snoke had arrived in a chilling rush, and he had felt it: a sudden burn of recognition, a flare of desperate desire. As much as the girl fascinated him, those emotions hadn't been his own.

They had been Snoke's.

His companion had disguised them quickly, replaced them with a front of confusion and curiosity, but Ben knew. Even now he could hear Snoke's whispering beginning, telling him how foolish he was being, how he, Snoke, knew nothing of the girl, and was just as curious as Ben to learn more about her. The whispering grew into a hissing roar, and Ben realized with surprise that he was on his feet, pacing opposite his uncle, who had grown still.

With great difficulty, he shoved down his incriminating thoughts into the tiny, dark corner of his mind that was his alone, and projected an air of placating agreement to his companion. The effort required to maintain this kind of focus caused Ben to physically tremble with exertion.

Snoke wanted something from the girl. It was a selfish desire, the power-hungry and possessive kind of need that destroyed things. Ben knew it—he had seen it before, felt it in the way that his companion commanded his actions and played with his thoughts. It was simple—what Snoke wanted, he got. Ben had come to terms rather early in his life with the fact that he was somehow inherently flawed. His mother could see it, his father could see it—even Master Skywalker could see it. So rather than foreboding, he felt only gratitude that a being as powerful as Snoke would desire his loyalty with such ferocity. But the child— _Rey_ —she was different. She was clean in a way that Ben never had been, and a part of him—the part that harbored a silent guilt over the being crouched in his own head—wanted her to stay that way.

The young Solo had spent much of his life being uncertain—about himself, about his family, about his gifts—but he was totally certain of one thing: he would die before he let Snoke lay a finger on that child. He was as bewildered by this realization as he was by the strength of its clarity, and yet his turmoil did not cause him to waver in his conviction. For the first time, he felt more than a passing resentment for his companion. He hid this too, mind whirling as he tried to maintain two trains of thought at once—the plotting one, and the innocent one, which was visible to Snoke's watching presence.

The solution came to him slowly and then all at once. He hesitated for a moment, loathing the idea, hating it with every fiber of his being. But it was the only way. It was necessary, especially if he planned to regain any semblance of equilibrium.

"Send her away," he said tonelessly. "Let her go back with Han. Surely he can find a use for her. She may be strong in the Force, but she is rebellious—I feel it in her. You don't want to train that girl."

Skywalker froze, looking curiously up at his nephew, who towered over him by a good six inches.

"I've already told Leia that the child can stay," he said slowly.

"Please!" Ben snapped, breaking his facade.

 _No,_ he told himself. _You must control it. You must not allow Snoke to suspect your intentions._

"She is nothing but a scavenger girl! There are a hundred others like her—perhaps a thousand." He struggled desperately to calm himself. "Send her away with Han—at least then she'll have some sort of a childhood."

Skywalker's face softened on these words, as if he finally understood Ben's motivation. _You wish, old man._

"Ben, no one will force the child to become a Jedi," his uncle said soothingly. "I know that you have always struggled to see the Force in the way that I do—it's part of who you are to see things differently, and that is not a crime. But don't project your own unhappiness with my training onto Rey. Let her decide her own fate."

An angry sort of nausea gripped Ben, and he drew it up, pressing it into all of the spaces in his mind for Snoke to see. Skywalker's response was not ideal, but at least it gave him an excuse for his behavior. Swallowing once, he ground his hands into fists and faced his uncle directly.

"Send the girl away," he said, channeling all of his anger into the words. "Or you will live to regret it."

And he spun on his heel and left the room.


	5. Torn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rey learns what it means to be a Jedi.

"It's a new world, it's a new start,

It's alive with the beating of young hearts,

It's a new day, it's a new plan,

I've been waiting for you.

Here I am."

-Here I Am, Bryan Adams

* * *

_23 ABY_

* * *

The first thing Rey became aware of when she woke was the vast, shaggy head of a Wookie leaning over her.

Chewbacca quickly withdrew, letting out a sharp bark to someone over his shoulder. Rey's eyelids fluttered, filtering the harsh light that suddenly assaulted her eyes. She dragged her hands over her face once, and was confused by the accompanying tug and prickle in her right elbow. She dropped her hands back to her lap, surveying the thin, clear tube taped to her forearm.

"Kid?" Han said, squeezing around Chewie's wide frame. The look of concern on his face quickly faded as he watched Rey wriggle into a seated position, holding her arm way from her body as if the IV attached to her was a poisonous viper.

"What is it?" she asked through clenched teeth, feeling vaguely nauseated.

"What is what?" Han asked, glancing around the room in confusion.

Before either of her two companions could stop her, she gripped the tube tightly and wrenched it from her forearm, tossing it away. Blood welled in the pocket of her elbow and she watched it for a moment, fascinated, before pressing her opposite hand over the wound and bending her arm to increase the pressure.

"W-what? Kid, you can't do that!" Han shouted, clearly panicking. "Chewie, she can't do that! Get the droid over here, where is that useless hunk of junk?"

Chewie roared once, swiveling wildly in a display of consternation so exaggerated that Rey was forced to muffle a laugh, trepidation falling way. Her protectors were quite the duo—their antics tickled her humor at the same time that their concern warmed her heart. She glanced down at the small mark on her arm, which had already ceased bleeding.

"Where am I?" she asked, calling Han's attention back to her.

"Yavin 4," he said irritably, still casting his gaze around in search of something. "And you really weren't supposed to do that."

"It's fine," Rey murmured, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment, searching for a memory. _The courtyard. Ben Solo. The presence in her mind. And then—_

"You passed out," Han explained, sinking into a chair beside her bed. "Dehydration, exhaustion, some fancy medical stuff. That's what the IV was for."

"The what?" Rey asked, wrinkling her nose.

"IV—stands for something fancy, don't ask me what. The little tube that you just ripped out of your arm. It was giving you fluids."

Rey raised a single eyebrow in disdain, sharing her opinion on such things.

"Whatever," Han grumbled. "Feel okay?"

Rey tipped her head slightly to the side, conducting a silent analysis of her physical state. "Yes," she answered.

"Good," Han said, massaging the center of one of his palms with the opposite thumb. He seemed to be looking for an excuse not to make eye contact with Rey. After perhaps a minute of increasingly awkward silence, he finally spoke. "You care to explain the weird eye-locking stint you pulled with my son?"

Rey felt her whole face turn a bright shade of red. "I-I d-don't know what you mean," she stammered. "I passed out, remember?"

"Let me tell you something," Han told her seriously, his brown eyes unwavering. "You're good at a lot of things, but lying ain't one of them."

Rey hadn't realized she was capable of flushing even more darkly, but she was at least saved from responding by the entrance of Threepio.

"If Mistress Rey is recovered, Master Luke has invited her to dine with him in his personal chambers," the protocol droid announced.

Han scoffed, pushing himself to his feet. "Perfect timing, as usual, Threepio," he sniped. "Well, kid, what do you say? You up to it?"

Rey nodded quickly, clambering out of the bed. Her feet barely wobbled as she hit the ground, but Han reached out to steady her regardless.

"Excellent," Threepio said. "A change of clothes has been provided for you in the refresher, if you will follow me."

Rey paused. "Refresher?"

Threepio froze, then swiveled to face her. "Oh, dear."

* * *

Cleaner than she had been in years and thoroughly befuddled, Rey trailed Threepio up another flight of stairs. Her fingers teased a few strands of her hair, which had been left loose for once and just brushed the tops of her shoulders. Its jagged, hand-cut ends were softer than she could possibly have imagined, thanks to what she considered an exorbitant amount of water spent washing it. Threepio had given her careful instruction on how to use the 'fresher, yet she was still uncertain how it was possible to avoid waste under such a deluge.

Her tunic was off-white and slightly too large, her pants a rich brown, the color of earth. She had re-donned her boots in absence of a different pair, but was altogether uncertain why it was necessary to change any of her garments after only a single day. On Jakku she had owned only a single replicate of everything, which she had worn until they had literally fallen apart. As the saying went, the only possessions that can't be stolen are the ones you wear on your back.

Threepio stopped before a narrow door and pressed a panel. The door slid open silently. "I will return after dinner to escort you to your room," the droid told her. "Enjoy."

Rey forced a smile, took a deep breath, and stepped over the threshold into a small antechamber. A table set for two dominated the space, and across the way was another closed door that Rey assumed led to Master Luke's sleeping chambers.

The Jedi himself was positioned with his back to the door, fussing with something in front of what looked like a miniature kitchenette. Without turning, he spoke.

"Sit, make yourself comfortable. I'm almost done here."

Rey swallowed once and slid one of the chairs back from the table. It was tall, and she had to scramble awkwardly into the seat. She was grateful that Master Luke's back was turned so that he missed her graceless entrance. A beat passed in silence, and he turned to the table, bearing two plates of food. He had a craggy face, bright blue eyes, and a cropped golden beard, flecked with white. He was wearing a sand-colored tunic and brown pants, and Rey realized with a flash of surprise that he had been the other man in the courtyard—the one she hadn't gotten a good look at. She felt a pulse of embarrassment at the memory of her fainting spell. He probably thought she was weak.

She squared her shoulders.

"I hope you don't mind rehydrated ration packs," he said, depositing one of the plates in front of her. "I've never been much of a cook, and I've always been fond of simple fare."

Rey nodded, oddly comforted by the familiar loaf of dense bread and bowl of thick stew. "Thank you, sir," she said. "I don't have anything to trade, but I'm good at odd jobs so I can—" she cut off, realizing that the Jedi was looking at her strangely. His face smoothed suddenly and he smiled slightly.

"You are from Jakku, yes?" Rey nodded again. "And rations are currency on Jakku?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then I understand your confusion," Master Luke said. "Allow me to be clear with you, Rey. You owe me nothing for this meal. I provide for all of my students and visitors."

Rey blinked in surprise. Han's generosity over the past several days had confused her profoundly, but she had chalked it up to her position in his employment. This, however, was…odd.

"Yes, sir," she said again, this time more slowly.

Master Luke smiled again, crow's feet appearing around his eyes. "Enough of that, though," he said. "Please, eat, I'm sure you're hungry."

Rey eyed her food. It was true—she was starving. The table was very high, but she had managed under worse conditions before. She scooted forward in her chair, plucking the roll off of her plate and tearing into it. The bread was half gone before she realized that the Jedi was watching her closely. The look on his face wasn't judgmental, but a mixture of amusement and warmth. Rey blushed a brilliant shade of red, and began chewing each bite of food ad infinitum before swallowing.

The two ate in silence for several minutes before Master Luke leaned back in his chair, sipping from the cup of blue milk positioned beside his plate. "Tell me, Rey," he said, conversationally. "What do you know of the Force?"

Rey stopped eating and placed her spoon carefully beside her plate, lining it up perfectly as she considered her answer.

"It is a power that the Jedi use," she began. "It runs through everything—or at least that's what Maz told me. Senator Organa said that some people have the ability to sense the Force—and that it can speak to them if they listen. She thinks that I have the Force."

"Everyone _has_ the Force," Master Luke responded. "As you said, it flows through us all. And Leia is correct that some have a greater affinity for it than others. But it is not a power for the _use_ of the Jedi—it is the fabric that connects the entirety of the universe. Jedi are Force-sensitives who channel its flow to achieve a state of inner balance, allowing them to take advantage of its energy and ubiquity. This focus and centeredness _do_ provide the Jedi with certain abilities that aid them in their pursuit of justice and order, but the Force should _not_ be viewed as a means of grasping power."

Rey nodded, feeling as if she had failed some test, despite Master Luke's mild tone.

"Leia is also correct in her assessment of your affinity for the Force," the Jedi continued. "The Force speaks to you—I could feel it. As could Ben."

The hairs on the back of Rey's neck prickled at the mention of Ben's name. She wondered absently—as she had been wondering, ever since she woke—where he was now.

Master Luke seemed to be judging her reaction carefully. "It is my belief," he said carefully, "that you have tapped into the Force several times without realizing it."

Rey's dream swelled to the forefront of her mind, along with the feeling of grass on her palms, the smooth touch of Darth Vader's lightsaber, and a pair of dark eyes boring into hers. She wavered for a moment, deciding whether she should tell Master Luke about her vision, which had been caused by his own lightsaber and had contained flashes of his nephew. She remembered Maz's words. _It can be dangerous to share visions with those they concern._ She settled on a compromise.

"I have dreams," she said hesitantly. "All of my life, but especially recently. I had a dream of a forest. I think it was here."

Master Luke leaned forward rapidly, interest burning in his blue gaze. "What did you dream?" he asked. "Describe it to me, exactly as you saw it."

Rey fidgeted nervously. "Well…I was in a clearing. There were trees everywhere—huge ones. They felt alive—like the aliveness was spilling out of them into the world."

"The Force," Master Luke whispered. "Continue."

"I was sitting," she said. "Floating. Just above the ground. There were stones around me—they were floating too. I felt something—in my head. Like something—or someone—was trying to speak to me. It was—I thought I knew who it was, but then I woke up. I felt it again, when I came here. The same presence." Her jaw snapped shut, afraid to say more, afraid that she'd already given away the sneaking suspicion growing in her mind.

Master Luke stared at her thoughtfully as if weighing his options. "Be honest with me," he said finally. "Do you know who this presence belonged to?"

Rey hesitated for several long seconds before finally nodding.

Master Luke sighed tiredly, leaning back again as if he had confirmed something. "Leia has asked me to train you," he said, changing the topic abruptly. "At the very least, I think it would benefit you to spend a few days here, gaining an understanding of the Force and the ways in which it should—and shouldn't—be used. But I want to know how you feel about all of this. Is it something you wish to explore?

Rey's fingers twisted in the hem of her tunic nervously. "Yes," she said in a small voice. The silence stretched out. "It's—I feel like—there's something inside me. Something that has always been present, but until I looked at it, I didn't realize it was there. But now I've seen it, and it's…awake. And it scares me, because I can't control it."

"Can't control it?" Master Luke's eyes were suddenly sharp.

"Whatever it is, this feeling, the Force—it tells me to do things. I don't understand why, or how. Right now it's telling me—telling me that I need to stay here. That I can't leave. When I think of leaving, I feel a sickness." She pointed to her sternum. "Here."

"The Force can be powerful," the Jedi admitted, relaxing slightly. "Especially for one as attuned to it as yourself. Think of it as an instinct. Do you fear your instincts?"

Rey shook her head quickly. "No. I just—I came here because Senator Organa said I might be dangerous to Mr. Han and Chewie. But also, because something was calling to me."

"Then perhaps you are meant to be here," Master Luke said gently. "What do you know of the life of a Jedi?"

"The Jedi are warriors of peace," Rey said, quoting the opening line of one of her favorite legends from Niima Outpost's oldest storyteller. "They live apart, but they are one with the Force."

"Yes," Master Luke said. "It can be a solitary life. But fulfilling. Is it something you desire?"

Rey paused. Her whole life—or at least the parts that she could remember—had been one endless slog of solitude. She didn't crave loneliness any more than she craved sand in her bedroll. Her thoughts flashed to Han and Chewie. She knew that they probably only thought of her as their new mechanic—a position that she took very seriously—but she couldn't help but feel a budding warmth towards them. They weren't her family, but she wished they could be.

"Han and Chewie," she said softly. "They would have to go?"

"Yes," Master Luke answered. "Their place is elsewhere. You would see them again, but a Jedi must not form attachments."

Rey's chest throbbed with a strange pain. The half of her heart that longed for a family was telling her to leave, to run away to the _Falcon_ with Han and Chewie and leave this planet forever. She could stay with them until Senator Organa located her true parents.

But the other half of her, the half that was intertwined inextricably with a strange presence in the Force, was anchoring her there. She thought of her three letters on the wall of the _Falcon,_ of the dark-haired boy in Han's photograph, and the whirlpool dragging her closer. Could she not have both? Could she not follow the will of the Force without forsaking all human connection?

"What if my parents come back? Can I see them?"

Master Luke gave her a look that seemed to stretch on forever. "If they come here in peace, I will not prevent you from seeing them," he finally responded. "But like Han and Chewie, they cannot stay. It is not the Jedi way. A Jedi's place is with the Force—with the Jedi Order."

"And the Jedi Order—is it like a family?" She asked the question looking up at Master Luke hopefully, but his warm blue eyes weren't the ones she was imagining.

"It is a brotherhood—or a sisterhood," he conceded. "The Jedi care for one another. You will not be alone here—you will be part of something larger than yourself. You will have purpose, and you may even come to understand who and what you are. But you will never have the sort of family that I sense you desire. Desire is not the way of the Jedi."

Rey felt a lump forming in her throat and tried desperately to swallow it.

"Think on it," Master Luke said. "I will not ask you to make this decision lightly. Speak with Han. I know he cares for you."

Rey nodded gratefully, the immense pressure bearing down on her receding for a moment.

"I only have one request," the Jedi said heavily. "If you are to stay here, there is one condition."

Rey looked at him expectantly.

"If you are to become a Jedi, you must promise me that you will stay away from Ben Solo."

* * *

Rey stared sullenly at her feet, which were hanging several inches above the floor. The stone bench under her thighs was cold, and she had been sitting quietly for many minutes already. The medical bay was silent and empty. Master Luke had offered her a bed there for the night, which she accepted grudgingly despite her wish to return to the _Falcon_ and curl up in her alcove.

She wasn't sure what to do with herself in this large, empty space. She had yet to glimpse any of Master Luke's other students— _padawans,_ she reminded herself—and she suspected that he was keeping them separate for a reason. No use in sowing unrest among his pupils if she was only going to leave in a few days' time.

The choice that Master Luke had left her with was still battering around inside of her head like a loose part. To stay, or to go? She had never had a choice like this one before. Her life had been one endless stretch of waiting until Han Solo and Chewbacca had stumbled onto their old ship and swept her away. This feeling was foreign—it wasn't like choosing between climbing up and climbing down in the belly of a shipwreck. It wasn't like choosing between a quarter portion and a canteen of water. Those choices were important, but trivial in the end. Rey was young, but she was old enough to know that this choice would shape her entire life.

 _And maybe others,_ an internal voice whispered. _If you leave this place, you will be disobeying the will of the Force itself._

Rey shook her head sharply. A single day surrounded by Jedi and already she was buying into their superstitions. Perhaps she wasn't meant to be here at all. Perhaps it had all been a mistake. But the feeling of tension behind her sternum was telling her a different story—it was telling her that there was something, or _someone_ , who needed her to stay.

She jumped down from the bench and began to pace, combing through facts in her mind. Fact: if she stayed here, she would never get the family that she wanted. Fact: with the knowledge of the Jedi behind her, perhaps she would be able to find her missing parents. Fact: Han Solo didn't want her to be a Jedi. Fact: Senator Organa probably did. Fact: Ben Solo was the most captivating human she had ever met, and she wasn't sure if she had the strength to leave a place where he was, even if—

—the sound of the door sliding open caught her attention. She glanced up as Han and Chewie strode into the room. She felt the sudden urge to throw her arms around Han's waist, but she held herself back, looking at him miserably instead. The weight of her decision was thumping against her ribs in time with her heart. Chewie let out a low, sad noise.

"Hey, kid," said Han, walking closer and dropping onto the bench that Rey had just vacated. "How was your meeting with Luke?"

Rey resumed her seat and stared down at her feet some more. She couldn't lie to Han.

"Okay," she finally mumbled. "He asked me if I want to be a Jedi."

She felt more than heard Han swallow his sigh. "Well?" he asked. "Do you want to be a Jedi?"

Rey felt tears gathering in her eyes. "I don't know," she said, still looking down. She felt her bottom lip tremble.

Han swallowed once. "Look, kid," he said. "Let me give it to you straight. I don't understand all this Force nonsense. It makes no sense to me. But I've been married to a Force-sensitive for almost twenty years, and my own kid is practically splitting at the seams with Jedi-magic. So, if the Force is telling you to do this, I understand. I know I got angry at Leia for trying to pull you into it but—" he paused, clearly uncomfortable. "You're a good kid. I want what's best to you. I wouldn't hold it against you if you decided life on the _Falcon_ wasn't for you. You don't owe Chewie and I anything."

Rey wanted desperately to cry, but she was too proud to do it in front of Han. Her throat was on fire. "I do want to work with you and Chewie," she managed to squeeze out past the lump lodged in the region of her vocal cords. "But I also—have to stay here. My whole life I've been so confused. I've been looking for something—my parents, I thought. But this place—it calls to me, and I have to listen. It's like—if I leave, something _terrible_ is going to happen. To you—to Master Luke. To Ben. Does that make any sense?"

She could feel Han's gaze on the top of her downturned head.

"Maybe," he said. "But bad things happen all the time Rey—you can't be responsible for everyone. You should make this decision for yourself, not for us."

Rey swallowed, the sound of her name spoken in Han Solo's voice echoing in her ears. The family she had always wanted. It could be hers. All she had to do was walk away, ignore the wrenching feeling under her ribs.

"I can't," she breathed. "I have to—have to protect—have to do this."

Han let his sigh out this time. His hand dropped onto her shoulder.

"I get it, kid," he said. "I really do. And me and Chewie, we don't hold a grudge."

Rey couldn't hold back her sob at that. It rattled in her chest before breaking free—just a single sob before her throat clamped down on the rest of the deluge.

"Ahh, kid," Han said, squeezing her shoulder. "Look, our deal stands, okay? If you ever want out of here, I'm only a hologram away. Chewie and I still need that mechanic."

Rey couldn't help it. She threw her arms around Han's waist and soaked his shirt with tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like it! I feel like this chapter is a bit filler-ish so I do apologize for that. I also had trouble selecting a song this time around (I have some great ones planned for later chapters but this one I struggled for sure). I'm very excited to get to some later scenes that should be coming up in the next 2-4 chapters (and were the sorts of scenes that inspired this story in the first place!).
> 
> Thanks so much for reading, and as always, let me know if there are typos or other issues!


	6. Safe From Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rey says good bye, and hello

"We were running out

Through the storms, through the night.

We were running in the dark, we were following our hearts

And we would fall down

We would slowly fall apart

We would slowly fall into the dark."

-Falling Apart, Michael Schulte

* * *

_23 ABY_

* * *

"And this is the courtyard where we do saber drills," the gangly boy guiding Rey through the temple explained. His sharp elbows seemed to take up more space than the rest of his body combined. Rey had spent the whole morning dodging them, a task made more difficult by his wild gesticulations.

"Master Luke oversees drills sometimes," he explained. "Other times it's one of the older padawans. Serai is the best—you'll meet her soon. She has good tips on form." He paused slightly, his head tipped slightly to the side, allowing his straight sandy-brown hair to obscure his green eyes. "She says I swing my arms too much." He paused again, tipping his head the other direction. Rey thought abruptly that he looked like a bird, sizing up a bit of scrap. "She's probably right."

"I'm sure it's fine," Rey said encouragingly. "I've never used a lightsaber."

The boy— _Colt,_ he had introduced himself _—_ laughed, his eyes looking at a point just over Rey's shoulder. "We don't use real lightsabers," he said to the empty space. "Just practice blades. Real sabers aren't until we've mastered all of the basic forms."

Rey wilted slightly. Despite her uncertainty regarding a life among the Jedi, one of the things she had looked forward to most was learning to use their famous weapons.

"Colt is right," a voice said from behind the two. Both spun around and came face to face with Master Luke, who was standing in the frame of the door watching them. Rey glanced sideways at her guide and immediately copied his bow, folding both hands in front of her chest as she did so.

"Lightsabers are dangerous weapons," Luke continued as they rose from the position. "They are only suitable for padawans who have developed mastery over the physical body."

Rey nodded solemnly, dropping her hands and surveying the Jedi before her. He was wearing a light gray tunic and a pair of loose-fitting white pants under a dark brown robe today.

"Why don't you show Rey to the mess hall, Colt?" he requested. "Lunch will be served soon, and it's time that she met her fellow students."

"Yes, Master Skywalker," Colt answered stiffly, his arms stalk straight at his sides and his gaze wandering slightly to the side. Luke seemed unaffected by his padawan's drifting eyes as the two younglings scurried off.

Rey had woken early in the medical bay to the sound of shuffling feet. The skin around her eyes had been tight and puffy from crying, so she had scrubbed her face with water from the 'fresher before going in search of the culprit of the noise. In the entrance hall she had found Han and Chewie moving crates.

"The shipment," Han had panted, lowering a large box to the ground. "It's all here. I'm glad you're up, kid. Leia needs to get back to Naboo, and Chewie and I are her only ride."

Rey had done her best to hide her dismay, but some of it must have slipped through, because Han's face had softened. "Don't worry," he'd said. "Luke might seem like a tough old codger, but he's got a good heart. You'll be safe here. And Chewie and I will be back soon enough. Ben's in a state over something, but he's in less of a state than usual, so I figure we can risk another visit." He winked good-naturedly at Rey, as if letting her in on a private joke.

"Are you sure you can't stay a little while longer?" she had asked, hopefully.

Han had crouched. "Is it gonna make it easier for you to watch us leave, if we do?" he had asked gently.

Rey had dropped her gaze. He'd been right.

"We'll be back before you know it," he'd said, bumping her shoulder. Rey shoved down the voice telling her how familiar those words sounded. _I'll come back for you, sweetheart._ This time it was her fault—she had chosen to stay, knowing full well Han and Chewie would have to leave. It still hurt.

She had followed them out into the misty morning, where Leia had stooped to give her a gentle embrace before boarding the _Falcon._ Chewie had lifted her up into a giant bear hug, and she had burrowed her face into the soft fur of his neck, winding her fingers through the silky strands and wishing to never let go.

_Good bye, for now, quicksilver,_ he told her, in the rumbling language of his people. _Be good for master brightsword._

Rey had sniffled once but nodded, squeezing his paw tightly before releasing it.

Then just Han had been left; he had gripped her shoulder tightly. "Give 'em hell, kid," he'd said. She wasn't sure who he had meant, or why, only that his eyes had twinkled as he'd said it, as if he'd known something she didn't. She nodded, desperate to please him.

He was halfway up the ramp of the _Falcon_ when he turned back. "You know, you remind me of someone," he'd said.

"Who?" Rey had asked.

"Me," Han had responded, and then laughed. "Force knows you'll turn out better than I did, though. Good luck, Rey of Jakku."

And then he was gone, and Rey did not cry, because she was out of tears.

Instead, she had returned to the temple, where R2D2 had met her in the foyer. She had spoken to enough astromech droids in the past to carefully piece together his beeps and whistles. She'd nodded silently and let him lead her to Master Luke's study, where the Jedi had been seated behind his desk with a young padawan standing silently before him.

Luke had introduced her to Colt, and bid the boy to show her around the temple—a tour that had ended with their encounter in the courtyard.

"You know," Colt said, taking a sharp right and hurrying down a narrow corridor. "You're the first padawan to join us in almost two years. Janneh was the last."

Rey hummed in agreement. Colt was a peculiar boy. He spoke in fits and starts and rarely made eye contact—when she had first tried to pin his gaze down, he had shifted uncomfortably and rambled about the weather. He was kind enough, all things considered. He hadn't tried to steal anything of hers yet, although Rey didn't have much worth stealing, so she couldn't be sure if that really counted in his favor. Despite his wandering eyes—or perhaps because of them—Colt seemed not to miss a single thing. He pointed out the tiniest objects—a pool of water reflecting rainbow light, a flower poking up through a crack in the flagstones. He seemed fascinated by these oddities, much as Rey was fascinated by him. She wondered if perhaps they might end up being friends.

"Usually there's more of a warning when new students come," he continued. "Usually Master Skywalker goes looking for them."

"Do you think he's angry that I'm here?" Rey asked anxiously.

Colt cocked his head to the side. "Hmm? No, I don't think so. Master Skywalker is harder to read than the others, but he seems peaceful, if wary. He's always wary lately, though, so I can't tell if it's because of you."

"How do you know all that?" Rey asked. "His mood, I mean. Does he talk to you?"

Colt smiled, one corner of his mouth lifting higher than the other. His eyes were trained on the floor. "No," he said softly. "I mean, no more than the others. I'm just good at listening. But not with my ears."

Before Rey could demand a better explanation, the duo rounded a corner and entered a hall containing a single long table. Ten heads looked up simultaneously as silence fell over the room. Rey could have heard a pin drop.

"Good morning," Colt said, and Rey didn't need his listening abilities to sense the discomfort in his voice. He clearly appreciated the attention even less that she did. "This is Rey. She is here to study to become a Jedi."

Rey risked a glance up and was met with ten blank stares. Her greeting died in her throat.

Voices broke out all at once.

"Hello—"

"Who _is_ she—"

"Come—"

"—sit—"

"What's your full name—"

"What planet—"

"Quiet!" a voice snapped. "Stop pestering the poor child."

Rey blinked dazedly, finding the owner of the voice. It was a tall girl with flashing amber eyes and dark brown hair, pulled back in a tight tail.

"I'm Serai," the girl continued. "Come sit down." She gestured to the empty chair beside her, which looked like it had been hurriedly pushed aside as someone had vacated it quickly.

Rey glanced at Colt. He smiled encouragingly at the ground.

On trembling legs, she followed him to the table and sank into the seat beside Serai. The chair was still warm. The back of Rey's neck prickled.

"Welcome, Rey," Serai said. "Help yourself—lunch is only thirty minutes, so I hope you're used to eating quickly."

Rey nodded swiftly, surprised at the presence of rations during this midday gathering. To indulge in a third meal was something that only the richest on Jakku could afford. She helped herself to some of the bread and a strange-smelling cheese that turned out to have a sharp bite. She didn't mind. Food was food.

"Where are you from, Rey?" Serai asked gently. The others seemed too intimidated to cut in now that the older girl had silenced them. If Rey had been forced to guess, she would have placed Serai at around seventeen or eighteen years of age, although it was difficult to judge with off-worlders. Natives of Jakku were often stunted from lack of nutrition, or else prematurely aged by sun damage and lined skin.

"Jakku," Rey said quietly.

"Jakku? What's it like there?" a Twi'lek boy across from Rey asked. His skin was a deep shade of coral and he looked to be about her own age.

"Honestly, Nareek, do you _ever_ pay attention?" the girl to Rey's right asked snippily. "We just learned about the Western Reaches last week. Jakku is a desert." Rey's head swiveled to take in the speaker. She had pale skin, long, silvery hair, and dark blue eyes. She was striking, in a pointed sort of way.

"Relax, Janneh," Nareek responded. "I was just asking."

The two began bickering and Serai sought to regain Rey's attention with a light touch to her shoulder. Rey flinched slightly in surprise, but turned back to the older girl.

"How old are you?" Serai asked apologetically.

"Eight," Rey responded.

Serai's eyebrows jumped slightly in surprise, but she didn't question the information. "You'll be with the younglings, then," she said. "There are three—four, now. You, Colt, Nareek, and Ninsar." She gestured to each in turn, finishing on a diminutive Mirilian girl with swirling tattoos running across the bridge of her nose and onto her cheekbones. "The middling group is Janneh and Akava—" she pointed across Rey to the silvery haired girl, and then to a Zabrak boy whose horns formed a sharp crown amidst his dark blue hair, "and the oldest cohort is mine. There are six of us—me, Baz, Ben, Kora, Ezriel, and Loren." Here she gestured so rapidly at a series of faces that their names and features ran together—a dark-skinned, surly looking human, a Twi'lek girl with vibrant blue skin, a golden-haired boy with regal posture and clear blue eyes, and a tousle-haired young man whose gray gaze drilled into Rey intently.

"Only Ben isn't here," Serai said. "But he's easy to recognize—tall, dark hair—"

"Shitty attitude," Janneh drawled, twirling her spoon in a bowl of oatmeal.

"Janneh," Serai said tightly. "What have I told you?"

"Oh, right," the silver-haired girl scoffed in return. She turned her dark blue gaze on Rey. "Ben is a _tortured soul_ who deserves our _support_ and _respect_ despite the fact that he's a total asshole."

Rey found herself frowning. "He seems fine to _me,_ " she said, with a bit more venom than was totally necessary. Her small hands fisted the fabric of her tunic, twisting angrily.

"You've met him?" the coral-skinned Twi'lek boy— _Nareek—_ asked, angling himself forward slightly.

Rey shrugged uncomfortably, staring down at her lap. "Sort of. His dad brought me here."

"Han Solo was here?" Nareek exclaimed. "And we missed him?"

"I knew it," Janneh said smugly, her voice overlapping with Nareek's continued complaints. "Ben Solo is nothing like his father, nor should you expect him to be."

Rey felt a dark niggling of doubt in the back of her mind. For the second time in as many days, she had been warned to be wary of Ben Solo. Everyone here seemed to either fear or dislike Han's son, a sentiment that conflicted with Rey's strange instinctual certainty that Ben was _safety_ and _protection_. _You've never even spoken to him,_ a small voice taunted her. _You're basing your entire opinion of him off of a couple of letters and an old photograph. He could be dangerous._

She was saved from responding by the large human—Baz, who lifted his impossibly dark gaze from the table and fixed Janneh with an unwavering look. "Shut up," he said, in a voice that was both deep and surprisingly calm.

Janneh sniffed and Serai cleared her throat uncomfortably, plastering a smile on her face. "Well, we should clear up now," she said. "Rey, I'm sure Colt and the others can escort you to your first lessons."

Rey glanced across the table at her guide, who had been surprisingly silent for the majority of the meal. He looked up quickly, as if sensing her gaze, and sent a brilliant smile over her shoulder. Rey felt some of the tension leave her.

The twelve padawans stood with the scraping of chairs and the clatter of cutlery. Rey stared in surprise as Janneh unfolded herself from the chair adjoining her own. She had initially thought that the girl—who looked to be around fourteen or fifteen—was human. Now, however, she wasn't sure. Something about the middling girl screamed alien. She was tall, although not unnaturally so—Rey would have placed her at just under six feet. Her proportions, however, were startling. She had a lean sort of grace that made her look something like the human equivalent of a greyhound—long, slim legs, pointed features, and an astonishing lack of body fat. Rey had always been skinny and underfed, and she was fully aware that is wasn't a good look on her—her life of surviving on scraps had left her with little choice. But Janneh's figure—which might have been described as skeletal or unhealthy on an ordinary human, somehow suited her perfectly. Rey could sense the coiled strength in her limbs despite their lack of obvious musculature.

"What are you looking at?" the tall girl asked, fixing Rey with a withering glare that made her realize that she had been staring, open-mouthed. She snapped her jaw shut instantly and stumbled away from the table, clutching her plate to her chest.

"N-nothing," she stammered. "Sorry."

"Younglings," Janneh huffed, rolling her eyes. She spun on her heel and stalked away gracefully.

"Come on, or we'll be late," Colt said, tugging gently on Rey's sleeve. She spun around and found the other three younglings waiting for her. Nareek and the Mirilian girl— _Ninsar—_ were watching her curiously.

"Sorry," Rey said. "Lead the way."

Colt nodded and took off towards the kitchens, where they deposited their dishes with a service droid.

"Don't mind Janneh too much," Nareek said supportively as he stacked his plate on top of Rey's. "She's like that with everyone. Master Skywalker says it's because she's had a hard life."

"Hard, how?" Rey asked, wondering if perhaps Janneh's past was similar to her own.

"She grew up on Temiria," he responded, as if that explained things.

"Te-what?" Rey asked, growing more confused.

"Temiria. It's a planet in the Outer Rims where governmental drafting is still legal."

"Employment on Temiria is funny," Colt cut in quietly. "On Temiria, time is money—literally. Have you ever heard of fathiers?"

Rey cocked her head slightly. She had a vague memory of an advertisement she had once glimpsed in Niima Outpost's sole cantina—an image of a giant four-legged creature with long, pointed ears, underscored by something about betting on the races.

"Sort of," she said.

"Well Temiria is like that," Colt continued. "Except there are no fathiers—instead, kids are recruited by local governments at a young age and go to state-sponsored training camps, where they practice to be in the races. It is considered the greatest of honors. Janneh is only fourteen but she can run a mile in under four minutes."

Rey stared, wide-eyed. "That's impossible."

Colt shook his head, leading the others through an archway and into an unfamiliar room where several desks were set up, facing a blank wall. "Not for Janneh. She was born for it—like everyone on her planet. They're humans, but unusual ones. Racers like Janneh have been bred for generations to provide the perfect combination of speed and strength."

"You mean everyone on her planet looks like…that?"

"Yeah," Nareek said, sliding back into the conversation. "Wicked, right?"

Rey blinked once, twice.

"It's not a happy life," Colt said sadly, sliding into a chair at one of the desks. "That's why Janneh is the way she is. It's a defense mechanism."

Rey felt an upwelling of sadness. The other girl's life wasn't truly so different from her own. It might not have been labelled slavery, but she too had been separated from her family at a young age. _Bred,_ Colt had said. _Like animals._

"How did she get here, then?" Rey asked, but the answer to her question was interrupted by Master Luke's entrance in a swirl of dark brown robes.

"Good morning, students," he said briskly, taking his place at the front of the room. "Today we will be returning to our studies of galactic geography. Can anyone remind our newest student of the region we left off in?"

The Mirilian girl's hand shot up in the air, and Master Luke nodded to her once.

"The Mid Rim, sir," she offered, in a lilting voice that was surprisingly smooth for one so young.

"Yes, excellent, Ninsar," the Jedi responded. Ninsar beamed. "How about a little review? The Mid Rim adjoins to which four regions of space?"

Ninsar's hand shot up again. "The Expansion Regions, the Outer Rim, Hutt Space, and the Unknown Regions," she listed rapidly.

"Very good," said Luke. "Now can anyone tell me how many planets there are in the Mid Rim?"

* * *

The four younglings stumbled out of Master Luke's classroom two hours later and trooped down to the practice grounds, where Serai was waiting for them.

"What do the other padawans do when Master Luke is with us?" Rey whispered to Colt. "Are there other Jedi masters?"

Colt shook his head. "Only Master Skywalker. The older students are more self-sufficient. They often carry out their own studying or practice sessions—sometimes they even guide our training."

Rey nodded and turned her attention to Serai, who was distributing rolls of cloth to the rest of the cohort. "Unarmed combat forms today," she said. "Wrap your knuckles tight if you don't want scrapes or cuts."

Rey looked down at the fabric in her hands, feeling a sudden jolt of uncertainty. Was she really about to do this? Colt had mentioned that all of the other padawans had been at the temple for at least two years—did that mean they had been practicing combat drills for two years? Was she about to make a complete fool of herself?

The back of her neck prickled slightly. She scratched it and looked over at Colt. His movements were quick and steady, winding the cloth around and around his wrists and palms.

"Ben!" Serai said, glancing up abruptly. "What are you doing here?

Rey spun around so quickly she nearly gave herself whiplash. Ben Solo was standing several paces behind them, his arms folded over his broad chest. His dark eyes were inscrutable, and they were studiously looking everywhere but at Rey. She bit her lip nervously.

"Master Skywalker suggested that you could use some help with the younglings today," he said, voice curling around the words in a way that made Rey lean forward slightly, eager to hear more. "Something about a new youngling." Here his gaze flickered over Rey so quickly that she almost thought she had imagined it. She felt a flicker of confusion. Yesterday he had stared at her like a dying man catching sight of water in the desert; now he seemed strangely discomfited by her presence. _Was it the fainting?_ she wondered. _Perhaps he thinks I don't deserve to be here._ She steeled herself, preparing to prove him wrong.

"Excellent," Serai said briskly. "I was planning to introduce them to flips today—you'll be great help for the demonstration." Her announcement was met with whispers of delight and excitement from everyone but Rey.

Ben nodded once and stepped closer to the group, unfolding his arms and running his gaze over the younglings critically. Rey watched as he examined all three of her companions without meeting her eyes once. She swallowed and returned her attention to the cloth still hanging uselessly between her hands, trying to ignore the deflated feeling in her chest. She wrapped the fabric experimentally around one palm and behind her thumb, scrunching her nose when it folded over and formed wrinkles. She plucked at it irritably, frustration seeping into her movements. _They told you,_ she reminded herself bitterly. _Master Luke, and the others—they warned you to stay away from him. They knew he would disappoint you, but you just_ had _to get your hopes up. This is where relying on other people lands you._

Suddenly, a pair of giant hands wrapped around her smaller ones, pulling the cloth out of her grip. Rey's breath got lost somewhere in her chest and was siphoned away, leaving her feeling oddly off-balance.

Ben Solo towered over her despite his crouched position. She felt anxiety creeping up her spine on delicate feet—her life on Jakku had taught her that being at close quarters with anyone _this_ large was a bad idea, unless she was looking for trouble. But oddly, the nervous voice in her mind wasn't chanting _run, run, run,_ the way it usually did. No, that instinct was softened by the warmth and delicacy of Ben's fingers laying the bindings across her palm, flipping her hand, and running them down and around her wrist. All that was left was a feeling of tension that choked down on her dry throat, suffocating any words that tried to make their way out. _Ben Solo_ was standing right in front of her. _Ben. The boy—man—whose presence she had felt on the Millennium Falcon, despite the parsecs between them. The illusive figure who had become a sort of imaginary friend to her in the weeks and months before she had ever laid eyes on his solemn, beautiful face._

"You have to keep them snug," he said, drawing her back to the present. His voice was barely a breath, but Rey was almost sure it cracked near the end. "Otherwise they'll roll up and you'll get blisters."

She nodded silently, eyes fixed on his dexterous hands. They were warm—so much warmer than her own, and at least three times the size.

"You'll be fine today," he said, as if sensing her inner turmoil. "The others have been at this longer, but you'll be a natural. Don't worry."

Rey swallowed and nodded rapidly, her heart a flutter of wings in her chest. The fear was sliding off of her like water off a bird's feathers. She could do this. She had been scavenging for three years. She had cracked ribs, broken an arm, and even knocked out two of her teeth while scrambling around in old ship wrecks. She could jump further than anyone her age, and she knew how to get in a few quick jabs with a staff or a hydrospanner or her own fists if someone tried to steal her scavenge. She could do this.

Ben departed as quickly as he had arrived, standing abruptly to stride over to Serai.

"Alright, we're going to start off with our normal warm-up," the older girl said. "The dummies are in the shed—Rey, I'll show you the forms."

The whole class trooped over to a dilapidated wooden shed at the edge of the training field, where Serai and Ben retrieved several weighted leather bags affixed on metal stands. They arranged the dummies in a row, and each youngling squared up before one.

Rey did her best to ignore the flurry of punches and kicks beginning around her as Serai patiently demonstrated a series of blows—right hook, left hook, right kick, left kick, punch directly to the center. The display went on and on, advancing to spinning kicks and elbow-strikes that Rey struggled to memorize. Periodically, she felt a slow prickle beginning at the back of her neck, and could practically sense Ben Solo's silent gaze on her.

"Good," Serai panted, steadying the bag as they finished a round of blows. "You're a quick learner. Keep it up, while I check on the others."

Rey nodded solemnly and returned to her onslaught of the dummy. It barely swayed under her ineffectual blows, each of which seemed weaker than the last. She blew a stray strand of hair out of her hazel eyes and sighed heavily.

"You're only swinging your arms," a deep voice said, just behind her. "Your hits need to come all the way from your core—you need to breath into them."

Ben rounded her to stand beside the dummy. He crouched so that they were at eye-level. His dark irises scanned her face once. Rey counted the constellation of faint moles on his cheek; she got to four before she was interrupted by the light touch of his first two fingers against the space just below her ribs. The tug behind Rey's sternum intensified. "Breathe in here," he instructed.

Rey's stomach swelled with air.

"Good. Now push your breath out at the same time that you strike. And step into the blow." He lowered his hand and stood.

Rey nodded and turned to face the dummy. She breathed in deeply, feeling her core contract as she brought her fists up, keeping her chin tucked as Serai had showed her. With a _whoosh_ she exhaled, stepping forward and twisting her body in a single fluid movement.

Her fist hit the dummy with a magnificent puff of dust, and the bag rocked back.

Rey dropped her arms to her sides and turned to Ben, grinning in delight.

He nodded once, stiffly, and turned to walk down the row of practicing padawans. His cold attitude wasn't lost on Rey, but she could have sworn that just before his face had angled away from her, she had caught sight of a slight curl to one side of his mouth.

* * *

Serai brought the younglings together again after several more minutes of warm-ups.

"Right," she said, clapping her hands. "We're going to get started on flips—just simple back flips for now, but we'll progress to more complex moves as you master these. The flip is absolutely vital to a Jedi's repertoire—a Jedi must be quick on her feet in a battle. The Force can help you to sense an unexpected attack, and a neatly executed flip can help you react to one in a way your enemy won't anticipate. But you can't expect to perform that sort of move gracefully—even with the assistance of the Force—if your body isn't used to the motion."

With no further explanation, she turned sideways and launched herself into the air, twisting gracefully through two full rotations before landing, cat-like, on the soft earth.

All four of the younglings stared, awestruck.

"One day, you'll all be able to do that," Serai said confidently. "For now, we're going to be giving each other a little help." She motioned to Ben, who moved silently to her side.

"Ben is going to give me a boost as I flip—it'll give me the momentum and the height to land on my feet rather than my stomach," she explained. In a graceful movement, she threw herself backwards, tucking her arms and her legs in. Ben extended both hands, quick as a snake, and pressed up into the middle of her back, vaulting her easily heels over head so that she landed squarely on her feet.

"Like that," Serai said lightly, as if she not just performed a perfect backflip. "Remember that this is an act of teamwork—your partner is counting on you to do your part, so don't betray that trust." She tucked a strand of hair behind her hair. "Rey, you came on just the right day, because now the four of you can pair off. Nareek, you work with Ninsar; Rey with Colt."

The four younglings shuffled a few feet apart and eyed each other with no small degree of trepidation. Although all four had initially been excited after watching Serai's demonstration, they were nervous now that it came time to replicate the feat on their own.

"I'll go first, if you want," Colt offered generously. "It's okay if you drop me—I know I'm a lot taller than you."

Rey scowled. "I can do it," she snapped. "Just worry about yourself."

Colt looked a little hurt, and Rey softened. "Sorry. You can do it. I've got your back."

Colt swallowed once and nodded. Next to them, Nareek landed flat on his stomach, expelling all of his breath in a single rush. Colt looked vaguely queasy.

Rey positioned herself to his side, hands extended in preparation. She could feel eyes on her back again, and she tried not to let it distract her.

Colt gathered himself, crouched, and sprang backwards.

Rey bent her knees slightly and pushed upwards, hard. Colt was tall, but he was also rail-thin. The force was enough to suspend him in the air for an extra half-second, allowing him to complete his rotation and come down on his feet—or nearly. He staggered forwards wildly, trying to regain his balance, and Rey caught his shoulders.

Colt panted breathlessly, withdrawing quickly as if uncomfortable with her touch. "Thanks," he said. "That was actually…sort of fun."

Rey smiled happily.

"Your turn."

Rey clenched her fists and readied herself. Planting her feet firmly, she copied Colt's crouch, sucking in a deep breath. She had a brief vision of landing directly on her face but shook it away. She was going to be a Jedi, and Jedi were fearless. Steeling herself, she swung arms up swiftly as Serai had demonstrated and launched herself upwards and backwards, arching her spine and praying.

A feather-light touch ghosted over her back and she felt herself falling. Panicking, she tried twisting to the side to avoid landing on her head. The ground rushed towards her and—

—a warm rush of air caught her, softening her fall and lowering her gently to the ground.

Rey scrambled up, panting and brushing grass off of her sleeves. Ben was towering over Colt, a furious glare on his face. The other youngling was practically cowering.

"Pull that Sithspit again and it'll be you on the ground, kid," he snapped. "Do your job."

Colt's head bobbed rapidly in terror as he scurried to obey. Ben's eyes flicked once over Rey and then away. "Again," he ordered.

Rey lined up next to Colt and prepared herself once more. She wasn't sure exactly what had happened. She knew Colt hadn't given her much of a boost—was Ben blaming him for her failed attempt?

Shaking her head to drive away her useless ponderings, she bent slightly, extended her legs fully, and threw her arms and head back, this time with slightly less abandon. A hand pressed firmly into the middle of her back, and she came down—

—softly, on her stomach this time.

"Again," Ben said impatiently.

Rey rose and positioned herself again.

Again, she hit the ground on her stomach.

"Keep going," Ben said, folding his arms over his chest and narrowing his eyes.

They continued in this pattern for another ten minutes, with each of Rey's flips ending with a gently cushioned fall onto her knees or stomach. After one particularly bad attempt, Ben made an angry noise in the back of his throat and waved at them to stop. He ran one large hand through his wavy black hair, revealing for a split second a pair of large ears. Rey bit back a smile.

"Enough," he said, irritation seeping into his voice. "You see the problem, don't you?" His question was addressed to both of them, but his gaze was on Rey. She shrugged uncertainly.

"The first flip would have been perfect," he said. "You committed to it. But beanpole over here," he jerked his head at Colt, who looked way abashedly, "didn't do his job. So, you stopped trusting him, and now your attempts are all half-assed."

Rey blushed and looked at the ground. Ben was right—she had had difficulty throwing herself into the exercise with so little preparation, and her doubt was even stronger now, after her initial failures. She felt ashamed. She had wanted desperately to prove herself to Ben, and here she was flopping on the ground like a fish out of water.

The dark-haired apprentice sighed heavily through his nose, as if he had never been more put out in his life. "Come here," he said, beckoning to Rey as he took a knee. "Try it one more time. I'll catch you."

Rey swallowed once and stood in front of Ben Solo, trying to hide the shaking in her hands and knees. She could feel his eyes on the side of her face, and for a split second she felt the presence in her mind—the soft caress of a thought. Encouraging, this time. Something in her chest swelled.

She crouched slightly, lowering her hands.

"Commit to it," Ben whispered.

Rey exploded upwards, flinging herself recklessly into the flip. For a moment she hung in the air, weightless, before gravity took effect. Just as she was beginning to panic, she felt it—a pressure, steady and unwavering, right in the middle of her back. Calm flowed through her in a dizzying rush—for a moment she was suspended, as if Ben had somehow reached out and connected her to both the earth and the sky. She was a livewire, with the Force pulsing through every inch of her, as if he was conducting it into her like electricity. Everything around her felt perfectly still; if she had wanted to, she could have counted the leaves on the trees or decided exactly which blades of grass her feet would crush when she hit the ground.

The moment passed as quickly as it had begun, and Rey tucked her legs, curled, and landed perfectly on two feet.

Breathlessly she looked up at Ben, eager for his approval, but he was already standing and moving away. Her face fell.

"That was _excellent,_ " Colt said. "Show me how you did it!"

"I-I don't know," Rey said. "It was just…easy, suddenly. Let's keep practicing. Do you want to go again?"

* * *

When the lesson was done, Serai gave them a few words of encouragement before dismissing them for afternoon meditation. Ben Solo was already halfway across the field, making a beeline for the temple.

Realizing that her three companions were engaged in a lively argument, and that Serai was busy putting the dummies away, Rey sprinted after him.

She could tell that he knew she was coming by the way his shoulders curled over a bit, but she pressed onwards, skidding to a stop beside him and reaching out to touch the side of his leg, which was even with her shoulder.

"Ben—er—Ben," she gasped, uncertain whether they were on a first name basis. "Thank you for helping me, earlier. I know I'm not much good yet but—"

Ben had stopped walking, and he tilted his face down to look at her. She realized with a shock that his eyes were guarded, like two flecks of black ice in his face.

"What do you want?"

"I-I'm not sure," Rey admitted.

Ben set his jaw and looked somewhere over her head.

"I'm Rey," she said hesitantly, extending a hand. "I—"

"Honestly," he said tightly, still refusing to look at her, "I don't give a damn who you are. Only that you showed up here with my good-for-nothing father."

Rey glared up at him. "Mr. Solo isn't good-for-nothing," she argued. "He and Chewie rescued me on Jakku!"

"Did they, now?" Ben asked in a deceptively smooth voice that cast shivers down Rey's back. "And whose fault was it that you were in trouble in the first place?"

Rey set her jaw mulishly. "I don't know what your problem is," she said. "I came to say thank you. I—you used to live on the _Millennium Falcon_ , didn't you?"

Ben raised a single dark brow. "I hardly see how that's relevant."

"I lived there, too," Rey said. "For months. You wrote your name—on the wall. So I knew the _Falcon_ was yours, like it was mine."

A strange look crossed Ben's face, a mix of vulnerability and something even harder to read. Then his eyes hardened again.

"Look, kid," he said. Coming from him, 'kid' was not an endearment—it was an insult. "I don't want anything to do with you. I have to help train you because it's my job, not because I want to be your best friend. So, whatever it is you want, just spit it out and leave me alone."

Rey's bottom lip trembled slightly. "I—I just—"

She felt the presence again in her mind suddenly, but this time it wasn't gentle. This time it pushed thoughts aside, shuffled around, and grasped at things until it found what it was looking for. Then it seized onto those feelings—her loneliness, her sorrow, her longing for a friend, the sense of safety she felt whenever Ben Solo walked into a room—and drew them forward.

Just as quickly as it had appeared, the presence was gone, and Rey was left swaying in front of a tormented young man with something crumbling in the depths of his eyes.

He turned on his heel and stalked away.

"Wait," Rey cried, starting after him again. "Please—"

Ben spun around, the shutters slamming down over his gaze again. "Listen to me, scavenger," he spat. "I don't want to be your kriffing friend. You and I—we're nothing to each other, got it? I told Skywalker to send you away—I told him you were no good for this place, but did he listen? No. So now we're stuck with you."

"You—you told him to send me away?" Rey asked tremulously.

Ben's hand descended on her wrist, gripping it with enough strength to bruise, and she felt something being pushed into her mind, a vision of a room— _Master Luke's study—and the Jedi himself, standing behind a desk. She could feel Ben's anger, not just sense it. She could feel his conflict and pain and frustration._

_"She is nothing but a scavenger girl!" he spat. "There are a hundred others like her—perhaps a thousand. Send her away with Han—"_

_—the memory skipped suddenly, for that was what it was, a memory._

_"Send the girl away," Ben said coldly. "Or you will live to regret it."_

Rey's eyes snapped open and she realized that Ben had released her arm and was already halfway across the field. She watched him go silently, tears making track down her cheeks.

The other three padawans caught up with her then, plucking at her sleeves and asking her what was wrong, what had he said, why was she crying?

Rey just shrugged and brushed them off, told them she had dust in her eyes from all of her falls. She didn't tell them that the tears weren't really tears of sadness, but tears of frustration, confusion, and compassion.

Because when Ben Solo had forced his memory into her mind, she had felt his anger. She had felt it like a knife in her mind, in her heart.

But she had felt all of his other emotions as well—his fear, his helplessness, his conflict, and most importantly the overpowering urge he felt to protect her. And she had heard, like a whisper in the back of his mind, the words that he wanted to say but couldn't.

_Hide her. Protect her. Keep her safe from me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I introduced a lot of new characters this chapter-I promise I'll do my best to give good descriptions when I bring them all up in future chapters (since I'm sure none of you have them all memorized at this point, nor were you meant to). I don't have strong images of them all in my head yet, but Colt started giving me strong Eddy Redmayne-vibes about a page into the chapter (any Newt Scamander fans out there? this one is for you). Serai is 100% Alexandra Daddario, and I imagine Janneh as looking something like Kristine Froseth. Let me know if you pictured other faces while you were reading! (These are all the adult castings, obviously-they're kids now, so just imagine younger version of those actors or something).
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and commenting--your enthusiasm keeps me going. Stay safe & healthy!
> 
> -Aspen


	7. Every Breath of Air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of discovery, friendship, and apologies

"Light will lead the way, will set you free

I'm only looking for a little peace

And when the night falls

Oh call on me

Just don't forget to show me some mercy."

-Shine A Light, BANNERS

* * *

_23 ABY_

* * *

Rey got lost twice on her journey to Master Luke's study, but at least it gave her time to gather her thoughts. _Ben's cold, tense countenance; the slight tick under his left eye; the ache of his grip clamping down on her forearm._

She carefully straightened her tunic and took a deep breath, releasing her inner tension. She lifted a fist to knock. She needed answers.

"Enter." Master Luke's voice carried through the door as it slid open.

Rey stepped forward, sketching a quick bow and rising to find the man standing directly before her.

"Come," he said. "Let's walk. I have much to teach you, and based on what you've told me about your previous experiences with the Force, a dusty old classroom might not be the best place to start."

Rey nodded quickly and followed, tugging her arm wraps nervously. "Where are we going, sir?" she asked, shuffling along at a jog to match his much longer strides.

"To the forest," Master Luke responded. "It is quieter there, but louder in ways that matter. While we walk, tell me—how have your other lessons been today?"

"They've been…interesting," Rey responded. "I had no idea there were so many planets in the galaxy—'like grains of sand in a dune,'" she said, quoting the Jedi's own description from his lecture. "And Ben taught me how to punch harder—and do a backflip." She glanced up at her companion, worried that he would be angered by the mention of his nephew.

Master Luke's face, however, was serene. "Did he, now?" he said lightly. "Did he teach you anything else?"

Rey thought briefly of Ben's flashing, dark eyes, his curled lip, and the piercing devastation in the single, fleeting look he had given her after penetrating her mind. She thought of how Master Luke already didn't trust Ben, of how the other padawans seemed to dislike him, and how his own father seemed to have lost hope for him. "Nothing," she said, perhaps a shade too innocently. "Was he supposed to?"

If the Jedi sensed her deceit, he didn't comment on it. "And the other younglings? Are you getting along well?"

"Yes, sir," Rey confirmed. "Colt has been a good guide. Although with all due respect, sir, I don't think any of them would last long on Jakku."

"And why is that?"

"They're too nice, sir," Rey answered. "They wouldn't have the stomach for it."

"And you did?" Master Luke asked, his sharp blue eyes flashing over her face quickly.

Rey shrugged. "I don't know another life."

The two fell into silence for several minutes as they crossed the foyer and passed through the tall front blast doors.

"Sir, are Jedi good at lying?" Rey asked tentatively as they headed for the tree line.

"The way of the Jedi is the way of truth, and enlightenment," Master Luke responded. "What need would a Jedi have for lying?"

Rey wrinkled her nose slightly. "Are the stories not true, then, about Jedi mind tricks?"

If she had thought Master Luke capable of blushing, Rey would have sworn she saw blood creeping into his cheeks. "Yes," he said slowly. "But these methods are only used in times of great need, and even then, sparingly. Why do you ask, child?"

"I was just wondering whether it's easy to trick a Jedi," Rey asked. "Since they can see into your mind. If a person had hidden reasons for doing something, would you know?"

 _Ben's furious countenance. His fear. His need to hide her, protect her._ And two words that she hadn't caught at first, but was now certain had been there, hidden under layers and layers of turmoil. _From me._

At this point, Master Luke had turned his full attention on Rey. "Perhaps," he said. "Why? Is there something you feel the need to tell me?"

"No," Rey backtracked rapidly. "I'm just curious about how it works."

The Jedi sighed heavily, and for a moment Rey thought he wouldn't answer. "It doesn't work like _that_ ," he finally said. "Jedi don't just walk about reading minds—for one it's incredibly rude, and for another, it's devilishly tricky. Only the very strongest can manage more than a general sense of the thoughts and feelings that another is experiencing, and even then, it is easy to be fooled. Furthermore, strong focus can keep even the most powerful Jedi out."

Rey furrowed her brow thoughtfully. From Master Luke's responses, it seemed that he hadn't guessed at the reason for her interest. She also had a distinct feeling that he wasn't aware of the source or nature of Ben Solo's inner conflict. Did that mean that he thought Ben truly despised her? And how had she stumbled upon the truth? Had Ben accidentally let something slip that he hadn't intended?

"Is there a reason for this line of questioning?" Master Luke asked.

"No reason," Rey said quickly. "Just a story I heard once. A-about how you can never fool a Jedi. I was just wondering if it was true."

"Well," Master Luke said, "it is somewhat true, but not in the way that you think." He stopped, scanning the trees above them, gathered his robes in his hands, and settled slowly into a cross-legged position. "Come, sit," he said, patting the moss-covered ground before him.

Rey sank to the ground, crossing her legs in front of her and resting her hands on her knees.

"Remember what I told you before?" Luke asked. "The Force is like an instinct. You might not know exactly what a person is thinking, but you can make an excellent guess at what is about to transpire. For example, were you to pick up the nearest stick and swing it at my head," he said, gesturing in a chopping motion towards his left ear, "I would have a split second of warning beyond what a non-Force-sensitive might experience. Like a premonition of sorts. This ability is one of the reasons why a Jedi's fighting style is so unique. Very few can deflect blaster bolts with nothing but a lightsaber—but for a trained Jedi, this task is a simple one. Knowing the terrain around you is one thing, but feeling it, _being it,_ is something else entirely. The Force can guide you, if you let it. And therein lies our first lesson together: meditation."

Rey nodded, pushing away her thoughts of Ben and trying desperately to keep up.

"When you have experienced the Force in the past—or this _presence_ of which you have told me—what does it feel like?"

Rey scrunched her nose, thinking. "Like there's…another person with me. But in my head." Her hand drifted absently to her temple. "Other times, it doesn't feel like a person. When I was on Takodana with Mr. Han, I felt like the trees were watching me. Like the grass was…alive. Does that make sense?"

Master Luke nodded, a smile flickering at the corners of his mouth. "Oh yes, Rey," he said. "That is the nature of the Force. It is all around us—in every breath of air and every drop of rain—but sometimes it is easiest to feel in living creatures. In time you will learn to see the Force everywhere, even in death. But for now, we will focus on attuning our minds to the forest. Close your eyes."

Rey snapped her eyes shut obediently, blocking out the sight of the trees and her teacher.

"Reach out," he said.

Rey lifted an arm, extending her palm towards the space where she knew Luke was sitting. She heard an exasperated sigh and her eyes shot open.

"Not like that," the Jedi said dryly. "Reach out with your mind. With your feelings."

Chagrined and blushing, Rey dropped her hand back into her lap and closed her eyes again. She wasn't sure what Master Luke meant by reaching out, so she tried instead to listen intently. At first, she heard nothing out of the ordinary—the sound of wind in branches, birdsong, her companion's breathing, the thumping of her own blood in her ears.

"Good," Luke whispered. "Now what do you feel?"

Rey breathed out deeply, and in again, letting the air rush into her lungs and lift her chest. And out. And in. There was something hovering on the periphery of her mind, a soft and subtle thing that she felt herself reaching for, grasping at fruitlessly. Somehow it always seemed just an inch out of her range.

"Relax," Master Luke said. "Don't try so hard. Let it come to you."

Rey sighed, struggling to release some of the tension that had built in her neck and shoulders. The sound of her master's breathing so nearby made her feel oddly claustrophobic. Shaking her head slightly, she pressed the thought away and refocused on listening. The something was there again, vague and undefinable, promising untold wonders. She breathed out and didn't stretch for it. The feeling crept nearer, like sand rising around her ankles, crawling up her stomach and chest, pressing into her and anchoring her.

Suddenly she was filled with the oddest sensation, as if she—the nebulous, sentient part of her that one might call a consciousness, or a mind, or a soul—was slowly slipping out of its usual vantage point within her skull. It flowed outwards like streams of water, joining with the greater current that swirled around her in an invisible silver eddy of light and dark and power. For a split second she was no longer Rey—she was everything, and everything was her. She was the bird looking down from a high-up branch, the beetle creeping along the forest floor, and the narrow sapling pressing its leafy top towards the canopy. It was a sense somewhere between sight and touch and sound, and yet so utterly different from all three that it could not be described in any words that she knew. Her fingers tingled and her blood thrummed as the direction of the current around her changed, the flow of energy moving towards her, pushing through her like she was a conductor spinning out electricity. Everything around her was pulsing with her presence, and she was pulsing with the world.

Somewhere in the midst of that swirl of light and connection was something—or someone—she had been looking for. She was sure of it. If she could only draw her mind's eye back far enough, zoom out to take in everything, she was certain that she would be able to see how she fit into the whole—a single, microscopic puzzle piece locking somehow into the greater pattern. Gripped by this certainty she stretched out further, seeking, searching—there—something—a presence— _her_ presence—

Abruptly the connection was broken, as if she had suddenly closed her eyes and cut out the light. Jarred, she blinked once, extending an arm to steady herself. The sun had dropped nearly to the horizon, although she could have sworn her eyes had been closed for only a few minutes. Master Luke was still sitting cross-legged before her, staring at with a look somewhere between wonder and disbelief.

"Remarkable," he said. "I have seen this only once before. I believe I understand, now."

"Understand what?" Rey asked, her voice—long disused—cracking on the words. She blinked again, still trying to regain her bearings.

"Many things," Master Luke said vaguely. "But most of all, how you came to be _here,_ of all places. That is enough, for today. You did well. We will meet again tomorrow, at the same time. Yes?"

Rey nodded, feeling suddenly sleepy, and followed the Jedi as he climbed to his feet.

"Tell me, young Rey," he said, stepping into the forest. "Of what did you dream during your nights on Jakku?"

Rey hesitated, thrown off by the question. "Many things," she said softly. "My parents, mostly. Sometimes an ocean—and an island. Strange birds, and a dark—" she paused, suddenly wary of Maser Luke's response. "A dark place."

The Jedi's already craggy forehead drew into a series of hills and valleys, his bushy brows descending over his brilliant eyes. "What was in the dark place?" he asked.

"I'm not sure," Rey said slowly. "I never went inside. Why? Is it important?"

"No," Master Luke whispered, after a moment's hesitation. "You must never enter there. And you must tell me if you dream of this place again."

"Yes, sir," Rey answered. Then, "I'm sorry, sir. If I wasn't supposed to talk about the place."

"Never mind that," he said briskly as they stepped out of the forest and approached the temple, where softly glowing lights were beginning to flicker on like so many fireflies. "You are a conundrum, Rey. So much light and so much dark in a single person—it is enough to confound an old Jedi like me."

"What is a conundrum, sir?"

"A puzzle, Rey. You are a puzzle."

* * *

Dinner was a rowdy affair, with all thirteen padawans present, and Master Luke residing over the meal. Ben sat as far from Rey as possible with his dark head cast down, refusing to make eye contact or join in the conversation. She could practically feel the anger rolling off of him in thick, cloying waves, so she tried to remain silent and unseen throughout the meal.

This was made exponentially more difficult by the constant influx of attention that she received from other padawans, all of whom were excited to have a newcomer in their presence.

"You should have seen her in drills, today," Nareek was saying. "She landed a perfect backflip on her first day!"

"She certainly looks like she could pack a punch or pick a fight," the older Twi'lek girl said, winking discretely across the table at Rey. "I'm Kora, by the way, in case you didn't remember. I know there are a lot of us."

The older girl's sympathetic smile drew a returning one from Rey's lips. "I did remember," she said softly.

"Watch out, Janneh," the Zabrak boy—Akava—teased, ruffling a hand through his navy-blue hair. "She's coming for your title as most acrobatic fighter in the star-system."

The silver-haired beauty scowled at her companion, but Rey could detect a good-natured edge beneath her irritation. The two—who appeared to be around the same age—were clearly good friends.

"I like your bracelet, Rey," Kora said, loading up her spoon with another bite of stew. "Where did you get it?"

Rey froze, her fork halfway to her mouth. Her gaze slid down and over her arms—

Sure enough, one of her wrappings had slipped down, revealing the beaded armband that she had found aboard the _Falcon._

She suddenly felt like she could sense everyone's eyes on her, including Ben's.

"I, uh, found it," she said. "On the ship where I used to live. Mr. Han said I could keep it."

"It's lovely," Serai piped up, angling her head slightly to the side. "What's it made of?"

"Um, leather and beads," Rey said. "And a few bits of wire—I had to repair it because it was broken when I found it."

"Let me see," Serai said, leaning forward and gesturing for Rey to extend her arm. Rey did so reluctantly, feeling the cool slide of Ben's eyes over her shoulder and down to her bicep. From the opposite end of the table, she could practically hear Master Skywalker's breath.

Serai withdrew and Rey retracted her arm quickly, glancing up just in time to catch a glimpse of Ben's face before he turned it down again. His expression was somewhere between pain and intense focus. She detected a faint sheen of sweat and his brow, and frowned in confusion.

The sudden scrape of chair legs broke the silence. "Excuse me, Master Skywalker," Ben said, pressing his hands together in front of his sternum and bowing slightly. "But I feel rather ill. May I be excused?"

Master Luke stared at his apprentice for several long moments before nodding his consent. "Go, get some sleep. We hope you will feel well enough to join us for breakfast in the morning."

Ben was gone in a whisper of hurried strides. Rey wondered vaguely how such a large person was able to move with such silent grace.

The rest of the meal passed in relative silence while Rey pushed her grainmush cake around and around her plate, wondering desperately what was wrong with Han Solo's son and what it could possibly have to do with her. Did he think her a thief?

"Well I am off to bed," Master Luke said finally, rising from his place at the head of the table. "Serai, don't let the young ones stay up too late—we have a lot of work to do tomorrow."

"Yes, Master Skywalker," the older girl responded, standing as well. "Alright you lot, time to clean up—you know the routine."

Rey devoured the last of her meal it in three quick bites. She was full, but the idea of wasting food was utterly abhorrent to her.

Grumbling and groaning the other padawans rose from their chairs and shuffled after Serai, plates in hand, to the kitchen. Rey drew alongside Colt as they walked.

"Didn't the droids clean up earlier?" she asked curiously.

"When we're busy with classes, yes," Colt answered, inspecting the shiny rim of his cup. "But Master Luke doesn't want us to get used to being waited on hand and foot—he wants us to be self-sufficient and accustomed to menial tasks. On some nights we cook our own food."

"It _builds character_ ," a tall, blond apprentice said, leaning over the two. His tone was haughty, and a slight sneer marred his angular face, which was almost feminine in its beauty. His hair hung perfectly straight to his shoulders, where it was cropped neatly.

"Yes," Colt answered, seeming not to catch the older boy's sarcasm. "Rey, this is Ezriel."

"Good to meet you," Rey said, gripping her dishes in one hand and extending the other politely.

Ezriel eyed her grubby palm with raised brows before taking it delicately. "Pleasure."

Rey placed him at around sixteen, and was impressed that he had made his way into the oldest group of students. Perhaps he had been here the longest.

"Do you not like washing up?" she asked, tilting her head slightly to one side.

"On Coruscant we do not—how do you say it?—'wash up.' We have droids for that," he drawled.

"Oh, can it, Ez," another young man with ruffled brown hair and flashing gray eyes said, bumping shoulders with his companion. "Don't mind him, Rey, he needs to learn to loosen up." He cast a crooked smile at Ezriel, who huffed indignantly but held his silence. "I'm Loren—pleasure to meet you." He extended his own hand, which Rey took with a great deal more warmth.

"Ez and I have been here for eight years," he explained, lowering his plate into a basin of soapy water and beginning to scrub at its surface. "I'm from Kessel—used to work in the spice mines there." He used a hand to brush his unruly hair out of his eyes, spreading damp, foamy streaks amongst the strands. "Sounds like you and I might have a bit in common. Ez is from Coruscant, like he said—nobleman's son. Different walks of life, but we get along fine now that he's taken the royal stick out of his ass." He punctuated this statement with a wild grin tossed over his shoulder. Ezriel's lips twitched slightly but he didn't smile.

"You worked in the spice mines?" Rey asked, wide-eyed. "Were you a part of the slave revolts?"

Loren shook his head, depositing his dishes onto a rack for drying. "No, that was after I left. My ma and da got involved, though. Proud of them, I am. They have their own plot of land now, down in the southern reaches of Kessel. Beats the spice mines any day of the week."

Rey stared up at him wistfully. "We heard about the slave revolts on Jakku," she said. "Plutt—he was my master—would punish us for whispering about them, because he didn't want us getting ideas. But we talked about it anyways—talked about how brave or crazy they must have been to liberate themselves."

"A bit of both, I suppose," Loren said. "And lucky, as well. I heard that you worked with the scavengers on Jakku." His voice was empathetic, but not pitying, a fact that Rey appreciated. "That's a tough life. Similar to the spice mines in a lot of ways. You ever want to talk about it, you just give me a call. I wander about." He twirled one finger absently before departing with a smile, Ezriel on his heels.

Rey finished cleaning up her own things and turned to find Colt at her shoulder.

"I can show you your room," he offered quietly. "It's between mine and Ninsar's. They're not much, but we each get our own since there are so few of us here."

"A—a room?" Rey asked. "I get my own?"

"Sure," Colt shrugged. "This place was built for more than fourteen people—there's space to go around. Maybe one day it will fill up, but until then, we prefer to spread out."

The two set off across the mess hall, Rey stepping lightly and Colt an ungainly tangle of elbows and knees. "The oldest students are on the first floor," he explained. "Middlings are on the second, and we're on the third. I'm not sure why it's set up that way—perhaps so that if there's an attack, we'll have the best chance of being protected."

"Attacked?" Rey asked, eyes widening. "Do things like that happen here?"

"Oh no," Colt reassured. "But hypothetically speaking."

"What is hypothetically?" Rey asked, following him up a set of stairs.

"Based on theory," Colt answered. "I like to think of situations that could happen, and then decide what I would do if they did. It's fun to practice."

"What would you do if the temple burned down?" Rey asked suddenly, remembering her vision.

"Hmm," Colt responded seriously. "I hadn't considered that one. I'll have to give it some thought."

They climbed another flight of stairs and arrived and the beginning of a long hallway lined with doors. Colt led Rey to the end and gestured to a panel before one of the doors.

"It's a Force signature scanner," he explained. "Press the pad of your thumb here to sync it—after that no one can get in except for you. It's for security, but also because the older students like a sense of privacy." He shrugged absently, as if the idea of privacy within the temple wasn't important to him.

Rey pressed her tiny thumb into the center of the pad and waited until the light flashed green. She withdrew her hand and the door slid open with a hiss. The room contained a bed—much too large for someone her size, but she imagined she would grow into it—a writing desk, and a set of drawers.

"If you need anything else, you can ask for it," Colt said. "I have a lamp and extra pillows."

"Thanks," Rey said, shuffling into her new room. She glanced around. Four corners, white walls. It felt strangely impersonal, like she had stepped into someone else's room. It was large and—in her mind—grand, but it didn't feel as homely as her busy alcove on the _Falcon._ She felt a sudden surge of nostalgia for her old home, followed by a pulse of loneliness.

"Could I…show you something?" Colt was still hovering in the doorway, his sandy hair obscuring his eyes as he stared down at his feet.

"Er, yes," Rey answered quickly, glad for the distraction. "What is it?"

"It's not here," Colt said quickly. "We would have to go outside. Lights out isn't for another hour—if we're quick we can make it there and back in forty-seven minutes. I understand if you don't want to go. I just—I thought maybe you would—want something to do. Since it's your first night, and everything."

Rey blinked, surprised by the boy's honesty and spot-on analysis of her feelings. For someone he seemed to fear human interaction, he was remarkably astute.

"I want to go," she reassured him. "Let me just do one thing." Quickly, she hurried to her desk and plucked the photograph of Han, Ben, and Leia—which had been tucked in her waistband—out of its hiding place. Opening one of the desk drawers, she slid the picture in and closed it quickly, hiding the artefact away from peering eyes. "I'm ready," she said, returning to Colt's side. "Lead the way."

The lanky youngling showed her silently down the hall, pausing and setting a finger against his lips when they reached a corner. Tentatively he peered around it before gesturing for Rey to follow and jogging briskly down two flights of stairs. Rey's face quirked into a smile as she realized that—despite Colt's assurances that lights out hadn't arrived yet—they were sneaking out.

The night air was a cool touch to her skin, by Jakku standards. She was still comfortable in her light, sleeveless tunic and arm wraps, although the atmosphere had lost some of the humidity that it held during the day. Colt skirted around the side of the temple and they took off into the forest, which was almost pitch-black. Once Rey's eyes adjusted, she found that she had little trouble following in Colt's light footsteps. They moved at a quick jog, winding uphill through tangled vines, thorny brambles and towering trees. The forest grew denser as they moved, the air stiller, and Rey could feel a stitch forming under her ribs when Colt finally slowed to a walk.

"Almost there," he said, pushing aside a curtain of tumbling creepers and waving Rey past him into the center of a crowded thicket.

Rey moved slowly, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever Colt had meant to show her. A faint beam of moonlight parted the trees above and doused the space around her in a silvery glow. It revealed nothing but dark tangles of plant life.

For a moment she felt a flash of consternation—what if Colt had brought her here as some sort of a practical joke? Or worse—what if he was planning to attack her? Rey tried to shove these thoughts away, feeling simultaneously guilty and shocked that she had so easily trusted a stranger. This sort of carelessness would have been rewarded with nothing good on Jakku, but Han had assured her that she would be safe at Master Luke's Jedi temple.

Still, her heart was in her throat as Colt settled cross-legged on the ground and gestured for her to sit across from him. "Now we wait," he said. "We made good time, so we still have thirty-nine minutes until lights out."

Rey nodded and sat, folding her knees up to her chest. "What are we waiting for?" she asked.

"You'll know it when you see it," Colt said. In the half light, she could see that his face was tipped towards the ground and he was playing with the curl of a leaf resting beside his foot. "I don't want to ruin the surprise."

Rey's brow crinkled in frustration, but she didn't comment.

The minutes slipped by in a tense silence and Rey was about to climb to her feet and insist that they leave when suddenly there was a shift in the light around them. Glancing up, she saw that the dark shape of a cloud was scudding across one of Yavin's other moons, blocking out its light. The thicket fell into complete darkness.

A few seconds passed.

"What are—" Rey began, only to find her voice dying in her throat as a subtle glow began to surround them. "What—"

The glow blossomed into an otherworldly light and Rey turned her head, jaw dropping in shock as she realized where it was coming from.

It was emanating from the very plants around her. And not just any plants—these were beautiful flowers, dripping in long clusters from graceful stems, their petals bleeding light in all shades—brilliant blue, hot magenta, palest pink, buttery yellow. They grew in every nook and crevice, clinging to the bases of trees and the forks of branches—glorious epiphytes casting their radiance across the entire clearing.

"The bioluminescent orchids of Yavin 4," Colt whispered softly, running his hand softly through the light cast by one flower without disturbing its petals. "One of the wonders of the galaxy."

"How—" Rey began, her swiveling in shock. "What _are_ they?"

"Orchids are a kind of flower," Colt said. "These are special because they produce compounds that allow them to glow in complete darkness. If we wait a few minutes more—there, see." He pointed into the branches of a tree, where there was a flicker of movement. Rey squinted and made out the shape of a rapidly moving bird with quickly thrumming wings. No, not a bird—a large moth. It alighted on one of the flowers, its broad wings splayed so that she could make out bold lines of glowing color striping their scalloped edges.

"The orchids' pollinators have developed a similar coloring scheme," Colt explained, sounding like a human textbook. "Each moth is attracted to a flower with matching pigment." Rey spared him a quick glance and was shocked by the soft awe on his face. He was drinking in the sights around them with a sort of desperate pleasure. She realized suddenly that he was showing her something that was incredibly special to him.

"They're magnificent," she breathed, turning away to examine a flower more closely. "How did you find them?"

She felt, rather than heard, Colt's shrug. "I like to explore," he said, softly. "There are stories about places like this one, but I never thought I'd actually find a grove. They used to grow all over this planet, but they've been harvested heavily for medicinal properties as well as their beauty. Which is stupid of course—even if you dig them up, they lose the glow as soon as you take them out of the forest." Rey didn't miss the bitterness in his voice.

"You won't tell the others, will you?" he asked after a pause, his voice sounding oddly vulnerable.

"No," Rey said, turning back to him. One side of his face was cast entirely in baby blue light. "Why did you show me?"

Colt lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "I'm not sure," he said. "Only, you seemed sad. I thought they would make you happy. And you're different from the others. Nareek would want to pick them and Ninsar would want to study them. I knew you would just…appreciate them."

Rey's face split into a wide smile, and a mimicking grin tugged at the corner of Colt's mouth despite his downturned gaze.

"Thank you," she said softly. "Really. No one has ever shared a secret with me before. Or showed me something this beautiful. I didn't know places like this one existed."

Colt nodded once, suddenly seeming slightly uncomfortable. "We should go back," he said. "It's getting late."

Rey nodded, taking one last glance at the thicket around her, taking in the glorious waterfalls of flowers, the subtle speck of light high above them, like stars in the canopy. "Let's go," she said.

* * *

The younglings were roused early the next day, but Rey moved briskly through her morning lessons in diplomacy and intergalactic governance, buoyed by the memory of Colt's orchids and the warm feeling of friendship bubbling in her chest.

She found that she was coming to understand the other youngling better and better with each passing moment. He was brilliant, but not in a flashy way. He seemed befuddled in the simplest of social interactions, yet somehow seemed to sense the very thoughts of those around him. And he hated being touched—a sentiment that Rey could relate to. Although she had taken easily to Han and Chewie, she found that the casual brushes, bumps and jostles of the other padawans set her teeth on edge and her skin crawling. Avoiding physical contact was a habit she had developed on Jakku out of self-preservation, and one that she didn't have plans of dropping anytime soon. Colt's aversion to touch was a source of comforting familiarity that she appreciated deeply.

Furthermore, she could sense his shy happiness at finally having a friend. It was a feeling that mirrored her own, and she felt as if she was walking on clouds until lunch, when the happy bubble in her chest was popped abruptly.

The younglings entered the mess hall rather late, to find the other padawans already settled at the table. Rey's eyes shifted eagerly over the faces, seeking out one in particular. To her surprise, Ben was there. His eyes flashed up the moment that she caught sight of him, and he sent her a furious glare before rising abruptly from his chair.

"Sit down, Ben," Serai said, laying a hand on his forearm. "You haven't eaten anything."

Ben glowered down at the other apprentice, but resumed his seat moodily. The other younglings had already taken their seats, and Rey was left with only one option—directly to Ben's right. Swallowing nervously, she circled the table and slid the chair back, hoisting herself up and keeping her eyes fixed carefully on her food. She could practically feel Ben vibrating with tension beside her, and she wondered, not for the first time, whether he was angry about her possession of the arm band. It was currently tucked under her wrappings, but suddenly she felt as if it was burning into her like a brand.

She dug into her meal anxiously, hungry after a long morning of studying, and half-imagined that she could feel his gaze sweeping over her with a tinge of…amusement? She glanced up abruptly, just in time to see his eyes traveling elsewhere. Confused she went back to her food, only to have the experience repeated. She looked up again, this time letting her gaze linger on his profile as he pretended to stare across the table. She felt Colt and the other younglings watching her, probably confused after the fight she'd had with Ben following the previous day's training session.

His jaw was tight, and she could see a muscle ticking in it as his full lips pressed together. She looked away, dissipating the mounting tension.

She finished eating and leaned back in her chair, wanting desperately to ask about their recent interactions and apologize about the bracelet. She knew, however, that this was probably not the place to do it. If Ben wanted to avoid her, talking to him in front of the other padawans was probably not the best way to win him over. And she still wanted to win him over desperately—even his presence in the room was like a balm to the prickly, raw feeling that sometimes overtook her mind. Colt's friendship was a gift, but he couldn't make her forget her loneliness with a glance, nor could he silence the relentless corner of her mind that thought constantly of her parents. Only Ben Solo could do that.

Suddenly an idea came to her. Letting her eyes fall shut and hoping that no one would recognize was she was doing, she reached out tentatively, searching for the feeling she had discovered the day before.

If it had previously been located at the limits of her reach, it was now right in front of her, pouring over her and overwhelming her in less than a second. To her left she felt Ben flinch sharply.

Turning her attention to him she almost gasped out loud. The padawans around her were all bright flickers of light in the swirling stream of the Force. Ben, on the other hand, was a vortex—a virtual hurricane of untamed power swirling and tugging at her. The space between them crackled with a torrent of energy—as if a standing bolt of lightning had been tied to their corresponding hearts and used to tether them. Streams of light poured out of Ben, swirling through Rey and looping back to him again in a never-ending nexus. Rey had a brief memory of an instruction manual detailing the use of magnetic couplings. The energy cycling between them was reminiscent of the diagrams she had seen of magnetic field lines—emanating from one end of a magnet and drawn back to the other. _A magnetic dipole_ , she thought vaguely, pushing the thought towards Ben out of curiosity. Would he be able to hear her?

 _No!_ The thought slammed into her mind almost instantaneously as the chair beside her screeched back. _Stay out of my head, scavenger!_ A heavy barrier was slammed down in Rey's virtual face, breaking her concentration and pushing her back into her own body just in time to catch sight of the door slamming behind Ben.

She glanced up nervously, taking in the pale faces across from her. Colt's eyes, in particular, were focused on her intently.

Surprised to be making eye-contact with him for once, she tried to smile weakly. She could see the question in his eyes, but he let it drop without complaint and glanced away as they began to gather their things before the afternoon lesson.

* * *

That evening, it didn't take Rey long to find Ben's room. She knew the hall where the oldest apprentices lived, and it was a simple matter walking past each door and reaching tentatively into the Force until she found him. She withdrew immediately, not wanting to disturb him as she had at lunch.

Stopping outside, she reached up to her arm and carefully unclasped the bracelet. The wires connecting it had become twisted and several snapped, but she had nothing to repair it with so she simply weighed it in her palm considering. Ben had called her a scavenger—and wasn't she, really? She had scavenged something of his off of an abandoned ship and then worn it around like a prize. Her face burned with shame.

She reached into the pocket of her breeches and pulled out a slip of paper, bearing two words. Her penmanship was terrible, for she had learned to read but never to write, and the words were barely legible. Sighing heavily, she placed both on the stone floor and departed.

 _I'm sorry,_ said the two words on the fluttering scrap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had fun writing about the Force because I haven't read any Star Wars books and I feel like all you get in the movies is people looking ~really intense~ while they move stuff with their minds (which is cool, but tough to see what they're feeling/seeing!). Let me know if any of this is how you imagined it!
> 
> Thanks so much for your continued reading and kind comments! Hope you've all had a safe/healthy week so far!
> 
> -Aspen


	8. The Bond Opens

"I know I took the path that you would never want for me

I know I let you down, didn't I?

So many sleepless nights where you were waiting up on me.

Well I'm just a slave unto the night."

-I Bet My Life, Imagine Dragons

* * *

_23 ABY_

* * *

Ben Solo was losing his mind.

As he carefully nudged his ship—a battered old X-wing—towards the planet's surface, he tried and failed to clear his thoughts. His increasing inability to compartmentalize was driving him mad, and more importantly, adding a layer of complexity and danger to each of his interactions with Snoke.

The truth was, he had assumed that several days absence from Yavin 4 would provide him with the time and space to regain his shattered equilibrium and refocus on his training. After almost two weeks of the newly minted hell that his life had recently become, he'd been all too ready to run away.

It wasn't that he hated living at the temple. Despite his constant head-butting with Skywalker, becoming a Jedi had always held a certain allure for the young Solo. Furthermore, recent times had brought a marked decrease in the feelings of abandonment, desolation, and irrational anger that had characterized the last decade or more of his life. He felt as if the imminent sense of doom that had shadowed him since childhood had shifted in a way that made life altogether more bearable.

Or it would have been bearable, if not for the incessant distraction that was Skywalker's latest apprentice. _Rey._

The girl set his teeth on edge in a way that he couldn't explain. When she was in a room, he could feel her eyes on him like the gentle brush of a bird's wing. When they were apart, it was even worse.

"Solo, there's a bluff just north of the settlement," Serai's voice burst over the intercom. "Setting down there, follow my lead."

Ben grunted in response and initiated the landing sequence. Serai was a good fighter, but he could have done without her constant bossiness.

Their quartet of X-wings broke through the cloud cover, revealing another layer of pristine whiteness below them—snow. Csilla was known for its icy climate, but even Ben was surprised by the utter desolation of the planet. It wasn't uncommon for Skywalker to send his older apprentices on the occasional diplomatic or peacekeeping mission, but they had never before strayed this far from home.

"Master Luke's contact agreed to meet us at noon, so we'll need to hurry," Kora's voice broke through with a faint hiss of static.

Ben guided his spacecraft in a swooping arc towards the bluff Serai had indicated, holding the yoke in a firm but steady grip.

He had been called into Skywalker's study two days previously and had arrived to find the rest of his cohort already settled in chairs before the Jedi master's desk. Skywalker had glanced up briefly and nodded to a sixth seat, reserved for Ben.

"Excellent," he had said. "You are all here because I was contacted recently by the Chiss Ascendency. They are currently dealing with a terrorist cell that has targeted several of their mining outposts. The group is estimated to be very small, and has been using a hit-and-run tactic that has prevented the Chiss from locating their base of operations, although it is suspected that they are remaining planetside. An old friend of mine reached out to me in hopes that I might be able to help—given what she has told me, it seems that the main barrier to a Chiss victory isn't lack of firepower—it's a dearth of information. That being said, I believe this is an excellent opportunity for several of you to put your skills to the test by leading a reconnaissance mission to Csilla. Find the terrorists, report to the Ascendency, and let their government handle the situation."

Ben had volunteered in record time, desperate for any opportunity to get away from Yavin 4. He recalled Skywalker's reticent look, his cautious appraisal, as if the old master had been wondering whether sending Ben to another planet—high strung and tense as he was—would end in disaster. The memory made him grit his teeth angrily, clenching his hands around the controls until his leather gloves squeaked in protest. He hated Luke's mistrust, almost as much as he hated his emotional distance.

In the end his participation had been approved, and he had left eagerly, trying to pretend that he hadn't felt the girl's heartbroken gaze like a dagger between his shoulder blades as he'd boarded his X-wing. She was safer now, anyways.

It wasn't entirely Rey's fault that Ben had been so eager to leave Yavin 4, although she had certainly played a role in his decision. He had thought initially that it would be easy to push her away, and for a time, it had been. Despite several early failings on his own part, he had succeeded in throwing up a front of vitriol and aggression that had persuaded her to keep her distance. The past week and a half had seen very few interactions between the two, although Ben could practically sense her happiness withering inside of her like a dying flower.

 _Not your fault,_ he told himself. _She probably just misses Han._

No, Rey had been nothing but respectful of his need to stay away from her—a characteristic that surprised him in such a young child. If he had expected tantrums and pleas of _why won't you acknowledge me_ , he hadn't gotten them from her. Which was gratifying, except that his own traitorous mind seemed less capable of coping with their separation than hers did. The more her connection with the Force deepened, the more impossible it was for him to avoid her. Each day her strength grew, and each day he was made to suffer through the constant _presence_ of her, like a scent that always lingered in a room after her passing, or a soft gaze on his back even when she was nowhere to be seen. These interactions alone he could have borne, but the lingering sense that she needed his protection refused to be shaken. It was _maddening_ , and it killed him that he didn't understand why.

It was clear that they shared some form of connection—his constant ability to sense her in the Force told him as much. Besides which, he ordinarily disliked children for their neediness and petulance—even in the years of his own youth he had felt a healthy sense of disdain for his incessantly chattering, emotionally unconstrained peers. Rey was quiet, and had a certain gravity about her, but Ben was still certain that there was something else at work.

He had known immediately that she was immensely powerful in the Force. From the moment he had opened his eyes and found her standing in the courtyard, arms hanging limply at her sides and lips slightly parted in surprise, he had also known that she was, for some inexplicable reason, incredibly _important_ to him. But he still couldn't lay a finger on why, exactly, that was the case.

As new as she was to the Force, _she_ couldn't possibly fathom the strangeness that was their connection. Ben certainly didn't have the strength—or the patience—to explain to her that whatever draw she felt towards him wasn't normal. Perhaps to her it seemed natural—the perpetual awareness, the unwavering pull on his attention—like she was a magnet and he a compass. Or perhaps she didn't feel it at all, didn't sense him in every waking moment, as he did her. Perhaps she wasn't maddened by his company and split open by his absence. _But then why had she sought him out so? Why had she worn his armband and gazed at his name carved into the_ Falcon, _and sent a vision across the galaxy to bring them together? Why had she watched him so tragically as he had boarded his X-wing and flown away?_

These were the questions that Ben Solo mulled over almost constantly in the moments when Snoke was elsewhere. When he sensed his companion returning, he tucked them away like the leaves of a book, bound up in a swath of inconsequence and hidden on a shelf of his mind where they could escape notice—barred in and locked down more securely than the strongest prison _._

 _Skywalker has sent her away,_ Ben had told his friend on the day after Rey's arrival. He had crafted a memory—half real, half-imagined—of Rey walking to the _Falcon_ at Han Solo's side. He had felt miserable for spying on her heartfelt goodbyes, but had been impossibly drawn at the same time. It had been many months since he had seen his parents, and it was with a sharp stab of jealousy that he watched them embrace Rey before their departure.

In his version of the memory, however, rather than hugging his father and stepping back, Rey had boarded the ship and vanished into the depths of the galaxy with Han, Leia, and Chewie. He had shown the memory to Snoke, tucking the real version away for safe-keeping.

 _See?_ he had said. _Gone. Han is taking her to an orphanage—I'm not sure where. They wouldn't tell me._

Snoke had seemed suspicious but had accepted the answer after carefully scanning Ben's mind for deceit.

 _Tell me if you hear of her again,_ his companion had requested. _She may be important._

Ben had trained his thoughts to hide his disapproval and acquiesced lightly. He felt both terrible guilt for lying to his only friend, and utter conviction that this choice was the only one. He trusted Snoke with most anything, but not with Rey.

The original lie had been difficult, but what had followed had been a painstaking effort in self-control.

He was simultaneously drawn to the girl, and driven by the need to stay as far away from her as possible. Anything that provoked strong emotions—anger, surprise, excitement—would draw Snoke to his mind like a fly to honey. Rey ignited all of these in him, and then some. It was like living a double life—perceiving her before him while trying to hide her—and any thoughts of her—from Snoke's roaming eye.

When he was in her presence it was almost impossibly difficult. He remembered catching sight of her armband at dinner and trying desperately slam down the shock that had coursed through him, accompanied by something else—a flicker of warmth. He was glad to see it on her, as if it somehow marked her as _his_. His to protect, his to watch over. A warning that if anyone harmed her, they would have him to deal with. None of the other padawans had known the warning for what it was, but it hadn't mattered.

Unfortunately, Snoke had also caught wind of his surge of agitation, and had poured into his mind like syrup into a glass. Panicked, Ben had projected a second image to Snoke—of a table, like the one he sat at, but without Rey. Without even the chair she sat in. The focus required nearly destroyed him, and he had staggered up from his chair with a desperate request to be released.

After that he had realized that he could have no further interactions with the girl. Thinking her name, even standing in the same room as her, was a risk too great to be taken. He would hold her at arm's length, avoid her as best he could, but kindly. He couldn't bear to see her upset, for any thought of the tears he had caused her brought forth a sense of such wretched self-loathing that he feared Snoke's arrival.

When she had reached out to touch his mind for the first time, he had utterly panicked. The thought of her brushing his consciousness in a moment when Snoke was present was almost too terrible to fathom. So, he had driven her away with his cruelest words, rejecting her analogy for the Force between them despite the shaky hopefulness it had awakened in his heart. He could see it, too, the way the Force swirled around them and between them. He knew it wasn't ordinary, but he had a sneaking suspicion that Master Skywalker and the other padawans couldn't sense it—if they could have, Ben doubted that Rey would have been allowed to stay on Yavin 4. His uncle didn't trust him.

But it was their connection, invisible to all others. _Just for them._

After that interaction, Rey had stayed away, at least physically. Ben had known, upon finding her apology and the bracelet, that she would not pursue his company any further. She had honored that silent promise, and it _killed_ him.

 _She's a kriffing child, you idiot_ , he berated himself, drawing out of his musings to check his trajectory. _It shouldn't matter to you!_

The thought didn't stop him from pressing his palm over his breast pocket to check that the bracelet was still there.

"Solo, come in Solo," Serai's voice crackled through the comms in a tone indicating that she had called his name more than once before. "Are you going to land, or just keep circling up there?"

Ben grunted briefly in reponse and angled his X-wing downwards, extending the landing gear and coming to rest beside the other three crafts. Disembarking, he checked that his saber was clipped at his belt and adjusted his heavy winter cloak to shield himself from the biting wind. He and his three companions had donned pale garb to match their surroundings, which would have been effective had it not been for the unruly mane of dark hair swirling around his face.

"We'll head in to town on foot," Serai said, rounding the nose of Ben's X-wing with Kora and Baz in tow. "It should be just under a mile from here, and mostly downhill. Don't forget your blasters."

Ben quickly checked the hip opposite his saber to ensure that his secondary weapon was present. Although Skywalker's apprentices had been primarily trained in the use of sabers, they were also proficient in the handling of other arms. On Csilla, where the Force was looked upon with great suspicion, those skills could very well be drawn upon.

"I don't understand," Serai had asked Skywalker during their meeting. "I thought the Chiss _hated_ Force-sensitives. Why would they ask for our help?"

Skywalker had smiled wryly at this. "Hate is a strong word, Serai," he had admonished gently. "The Chiss _fear_ Force users. In recent years, however, they have developed methods of protecting themselves from what they consider to be our _unnatural_ powers. When you enter the grand palace of the Chiss Ascendency, you will understand why they no longer fear you as they once did."

Ben shouldered his travel pack and fell in step behind the other three apprentices.

It was going to be a long mission.

* * *

With a name like "the grand palace," Ben had expected the capital of the Chiss Ascendency to be a bit more ostentatious. The architecture surrounding them—after a mile of downhill walking and several missed turns in the snowy silence—was highly militant in style. Thick metal blast doors barred entry to a city that was located primarily beneath the bluff upon which they had landed.

After gaining access using the credentials Skywalker had provided them, the quartet of Jedi were guided through a maze of perfectly intersecting, grid-like streets that led them deeper into the earth. Through his connection with the Force, Ben could feel the millions of tons of rock pressing down above them. The biting temperatures on the planet's surface lent practicality to the subterranean civilization surrounding him, but he couldn't escape the prickling sense of unease that dogged his footsteps.

 _I see you have arrived,_ Snoke's voice whispered in his ear. _Progress?_

 _Nothing yet,_ Ben thought silently, his eyes scanning the blue-lit corridor before him and his ears taking in the click of boots as he tucked way the last vestiges of his memories of Rey. _We're meeting with Skywalker's contact._

As always, the thought of Skywalker was met with a lurching sense of darkness that sent tendrils through Ben's mind. Blinking back spots he shook his head sharply and focused on the task at hand. The two guards that had been their escorts stopped in front of a narrow door. One raised a fist to rap at its surface, his blue skin stretched tight over his knuckles.

"Enter," a cool voice requested, and the door slid back. Serai nodded her thanks to their escort and lead the way into a small conference room where two Chiss officers were seated at a durasteel table.

"Jedi, welcome," the first—a man—said, rising and extending an arm courteously. "Please, sit. Refreshments? No? Very well." He resumed his seat, leaning back and gesturing to a figure in the door. "Yes, Colonel, please bring the _ysalimiri_. You do not mind, yes?" This last question was directed at Serai, who met his gaze with a blank stare.

" _Ysalimiri?_ "

The man stared back at her, a cold smile beginning to curl at the edge of his lips. "Oh? You are not aware of the customs of my people?"

"Lizards that negate the Force," Ben said lazily, letting a hint of arrogance seep into his voice. He already disliked this man and his cold, manipulative stare. "Bring them in, if you must."

 _Excellent,_ Snoke purred. _Your knowledge is a sign of your power—never let another hold the advantage of greater knowledge over you. That Serai girl thinks herself a leader, but she has walked into a nest of gundarks without the faintest inkling of their mode of attack._

Ben twitched slightly, trying to focus on the present, and felt Serai's shocked gaze on the side of his face. He refused to look in her direction. She wasn't in his mind like Snoke was, but he could practically hear her panicked question drilling into him: _you_ knew _about this, and you didn't think to warn the rest of us?_

The truth was, Ben had heard of the _ysalimiri_ only once before, and the name had jogged an old memory from an era in his life that he had done his best to forget.

"Why can't I come to Csilla with you?" he had begged his mother, his small voice almost a whine as he tugged at the edge of her billowing skirt.

"Hush, Ben," she had admonished. "This is a diplomatic visit, not a vacation."

"But you usually take me!"

"This time is different," Leia said, voice softening as she crouched to meet his gaze. "The Chiss are afraid of people like us—people who can use the Force."

"So is daddy," Ben had pouted.

"Your father isn't afraid of you, Ben," his mother had responded in an exasperated tone that spoke of arguments long-repeated. "He just doesn't always understand you. This is different—your power will scare them. There are rumors that they've even begun to import _ysalamiri_ to hinder the abilities of Force-sensitives. You wouldn't like it there, I promise you."

"What are salamerry?" Ben had asked, wide-eyed.

"Great lizards from the planet of Myrkr," Leia had told him, holding her hands a foot and a half apart to denote size. "Their natural predators hunt with the Force, so they've developed the ability to cast a Force-neutral space in which they're safe."

"But what about you?" Ben had asked, suddenly concerned for his mother, who he knew was a strong Force-sensitive. "Won't they dislike you? Won't they use the salamerry on you?"

"It's not the same," Leia had answered. Her next words still drifted in the back of Ben's mind. She hadn't spoken them, but he had heard them clear as day in the way he often could sense thoughts as a child: _Unlike you, I can control it._

 _She didn't trust you even then,_ Snoke's voice whispered. _It is as I have told you. You were right to forget her._

Ben swallowed once, hard, and shifted his gaze back to the Chiss man sitting across from him. "The rumors are true then—Master Skywalker suggested that you no longer had reason to fear Force-users." He let his lip twitch upwards slightly in the beginnings of a sneer.

 _Good,_ Snoke praised. _Make him fear you. Let him know that you are not powerless._

The man smiled back coldly. "Indeed. We here on Csilla like to be on even footing with friend and foe alike." He trailed off, as if considering which category Ben and his cohort fell into.

"As it should be," Serai cut in quickly, apparently having regained her ability to act like a complete suck up, no matter the situation. "We come here with the intention of providing aid, and we are happy to conform to the customs of your planet."

The man smirked slightly and inclined his head, accepting the implicit apology. "Colonel, bring them in."

The door slid open again, and Ben felt an immediate silence fall over the room. No—not silence. His ears still functioned properly—he could hear the click of boots on tile and the swish of fabric. It was his connection to the Force that was muffled, muted. He could still sense it flowing around him, but it felt lethargic and unwilling to respond as he attempted to pull it to him. He noticed with some surprise that Snoke was absent.

"Incredible," he said. "Truly a marvel of modern technology, captain."

Serai's head snapped to Ben. _Captain?_ she mouthed.

Ben brushed his thumb over his lapel, in the same location that the Chiss captain's stars resided.

"I am glad that you appreciate our advancements," the other man responded. "A smaller and more discrete nutrient frame was recently developed by one of our scientists that allows the _ysalamiri_ to be transported more easily." He gestured to the utilitarian silver-grated box that the colonel placed in the center of the table. "They cannot survive outside their native habitat without very specific care. Fascinating creatures, they are _._ "

"I can't feel anything," Kora breathed, looked slightly shell-shocked. "It's all gone. There's…nothing."

Ben furrowed his brow. His fellow-apprentice clearly needed a lesson in keeping her cards closer to her chest. Furthermore, he didn't appreciate the melodrama, unless she was attempting to mislead the captain. The Force wasn't gone—it was just quiet.

"I apologize for the necessity," the captain said smugly, not sounding the least bit sorry. "It is protocol here for all interactions with Force-sensitives like yourselves."

"Shall we begin?" the second Chiss—a woman with long, curling dark hair—cut in. "My name is Vrirmi'osulo'lisku, but you may call me Osulo. I met your master many years ago during one of his early journeys to recover some of the artifacts of the Jedi. It was I that requested your presence here. We are deeply appreciative of your assistance."

She paused to send her compatriot an irritated glance. Her scarlet eyes flickered, though Ben found it difficult to judge her mood without the assistance of the Force.

"It was our honor to be invited here," Serai said, inclining her head slightly. "Please, tell us whatever you can about the situation at hand. We are eager to help."

"The disturbance began some moons ago," Osulo said. "An attack was reported on one of our southernmost mines. Unrest is not uncommon in those provinces—"

"Although quickly dealt with," her companion cut in, directing a glare at her. "However, we were not initially alarmed. These things happen."

"But the attacks quickly spread, moving north," Osulo continued, as if uninterrupted. "They seemed to be targeting old kyber mines. We no longer mine kyber on Csilla—we haven't for decades—but it was an interesting connection."

"The attacks always occur in the dead of night," the captain elaborated. "Detonators are placed in the mine shafts and triggered as the attackers escape. Our people are trapped inside if they're not killed in the initial blasts."

"It's as if they're covering their tracks, these people," Osulo explained. "Whoever they are, they don't want us to know what they're doing in the mines. The reason we called upon Master Skywalker had to do with another disturbing pattern that came to light recently. The mines, like many of our more central city locales, are outfitted with _ysalamiri_ for protection. After every attack, the creatures have been found slaughtered."

She paused, letting the words sink into the room like stones sinking in water.

Then, "You suspect that Force-users are responsible," Serai said cautiously.

"Obviously," the captain snapped. "Who else would have reason to destroy the _ysalamiri?_ You tell me."

"Well it wasn't us!" Kora snapped.

"No one is accusing you or your master of anything," Osulo said, raising a placating hand. "We simply believe that—"

"Who better to catch a Force-user than another Force-user?" Ben drawled softly. "Clever. I imagine these terrorists—whoever they are—are excellent at covering their tracks? No one has seen them, or at least, no one remembers seeing them? They spread fear everywhere they go? Your men aren't keen to go looking for them in whatever hiding place they've chosen—it would be like reaching one's arm into a pit of vipers."

The captain's glare told Ben he was correct.

"How many?" Serai asked

"We estimate no fewer than three and no more than ten," Osulo said quickly. "We can give you access to our classified intel on their most recent attacks and patterns of movement—"

Ben let her voice trail away as he felt the light brush of a familiar presence. _Impossible,_ he thought. _Across planet systems, and in the vicinity of the_ ysalamiri? _Will I never be rid of this girl?_ He batted her away gently, not pausing to linger over her emotions—concern, warmth, curiosity. He rolled his head to relieve the crick in his neck and felt a strange prickling rush. _The Force._ It was back.

Struggling to hide a frown of surprise as Osulo continued to drone on, he focused on drawing on the energy around him. It felt slightly strange, disjointed—taking on unexpected patterns as it swirled over his senses. Ordinarily the Force was strongest in living things. They were like bright hubs in the vast web of existence. Here, nothing quite aligned. Powerful light blossomed around the empty chair to Ben's left and a blank space occupied the region of Baz's broad shoulders.

 _Fascinating,_ Ben thought, racking his mind for answers. _It is almost as if the Force has been superimposed over my surroundings. As if what I'm seeing has…originated elsewhere. Perhaps it's one of the effects of the_ ysalamiri.

Surely it wouldn't hurt to test out his ability to access this unusual Force. _For knowledge's sake only,_ he thought. A grin begged to take shape on Ben's lips but he held it back as he twitched two fingers slightly under the table.

With the grating shriek of metal on metal, the _ysalamiri_ nutrient frame slid two inches towards him.

Osulo and the captain froze mid-sentence as all eyes focused on the cage. Ben barely subdued the laugh that threatened to bubble up at the sight of the captain's terrified face.

The silence stretched out.

"They sound rambunctious," Ben deadpanned.

* * *

"Honestly, Ben," Serai snapped as they strode down the corridor. "It's like you were intentionally trying to provoke them. Do you have any diplomatic skills whatsoever?"

Ben fixed her with a sneering glare. "At least I can count stars," he said sniped, causing her to flush red.

"That's beside the point. From now on, let me do the talking."

"As if you wouldn't anyways."

"Was anyone else terrified by those creepy lizards?" Kora cut in, flicking one of her _lekku_ over her shoulder. "It felt like I was sitting in a sensory-deprivation chamber."

Ben snorted.

Serai shot him another glare. "It was unsettling," she agreed. "We'll be more prepared for it next time. Maybe Ben would care to share why he didn't think to warn the rest of us?"

"I don't need to explain myself to you," he responded coolly, withholding his simple explanation out of sheer bitterness at her accusatory tone of voice. "Besides, I think their lizards were a bit dysfunctional. Couldn't you tell?"

"What? No," Kora said, her brown eyes widening.

"Did you even bother reaching out?" Ben asked.

"Of course, I did!" Kora responded, sounding hurt. "There was nothing."

He raised a single eyebrow.

"She's right, Ben," Serai said. "Cut the shit and tell us what you mean."

Ben's jaw clenched and he looked away. "Forget it," he said.

"Ass," he heard Kora whisper, almost under her breath. "What now, Serai?"

"I was thinking we head back to the quarters they're providing us with and try to run through some of this intel—there's a lot here and it could take us a few hours to sort out what our next steps should be."

"Isn't it obvious?" Ben asked, this time unable to keep the snarky edge out of his voice. "Our next step is to find a Force-sensitive."

* * *

The scrappy village on the outskirts of the main mining province could not have been further from the austere militarism of the Chiss capital. Clinging to the icy hills like moss on inhospitable rocks, it was little more than a shanty town. Twisting streets framed low-set houses built with whatever wood, durasteel, or stone could be found by the people that inhabited them. Insulation poked through cracks in walls and adults and children alike seemed to move with a sort of reluctant hesitance, conserving energy as they traversed the windswept terrain.

"What a cheerful place," was Kora's first comment as they entered the village common after a two-mile trek from their latest landing site. "Good luck finding any Force-sensitives in a place like this."

In fact, the only remarkable characteristic of the silent community was the tall, chain link fence surrounding the entrance to the mines. These particular mines provided the income for the majority of the town's inhabitants, and were one of many government installments scattered across the planet's surface. Crenelated with barbed-wire, the boundary was an imposing warning against all those seeking to enter without clearance.

Ben wasn't interested in the fence, however. This far from the mine itself, he could barely sense the presence of a host of caged _ysalamiri,_ likely guarding over the miners and their haul. Instead, he cast outwards in the Force, looking for anything—any slight whorl or displacement of power that could signify a disturbance. He was glad to find that the odd superposition of the Force that he had recognized earlier had faded—unfortunately, neither could he find any signs of other Force-sensitives.

"Let's split into pairs," Serai said. "We can cover more ground that way. This town was hit just last week—surely someone here has seen something."

"I'll go with Baz," Kora offered quickly, shooting Ben a glance that didn't require explanation. "We'll hit the markets and sweep over towards the mines."

"Then Ben and I will take the residential area—meet back here in two hours," Serai supplied. "We want to get back to the ships by nightfall."

Ben grunted in agreement and tugged his cloak more tightly around his shoulders as they pressed deeper into the city. Further from the central square, the insufficiency of the housing became even more apparent. Ben grimaced in sympathy as he watched a child with numb fingers struggling to carry a bucket of water—bearing a sheen of fresh ice across its surface—away from a dispensary hub.

"Let me help you with that," Serai immediately offered, stepping forwards.

The child sent her a suspicious glare and scurried away.

Serai huffed in irritation and the two moved on, scanning the area for signs of life and reaching out tentatively with the Force.

"You know," Serai said, after several minute of walking, "you don't need to antagonize Kora, so. I know she has a flare for the dramatic at times, but she has a good heart."

Ben raised both eyebrows but otherwise didn't respond.

"Look, I know we don't always get along," Serai tried again. "You've always been so hard to read. It's not a bad thing—it just is. But lately it feels like you're _trying_ to push the rest of us away. If you could just—"

Ben froze, turning slightly aside.

"Will you listen to me?" Serai demanded. "Can't you—"

Ben held up a single gloved hand, silencing her. "I think we should go this way," he said, after a short pause, turning on his heel and striking off downhill towards the market.

"This isn't our area," Serai protested. "Baz and Kora will have already looked—"

Ben ignored her and continued to walk, his feet crunching on the thick snow that covered the streets. He could hear something, faint, like a whisper. It was odd, and he wasn't sure if he was headed straight towards a clue or straight into a trap. He only had a strange feeling, and he had learned long ago to listen to his strange feelings.

Serai jogged to catch up and fell in step beside him, finally silent as they cut across a road and entered the sluggishly moving square, where merchants had assembled their meager wares for sale.

Ben slowed, suddenly uncertain of his course, and began to amble amongst the stalls, eyes skimming over bales of fresh spun wool, crates of root vegetables, and stacked tins of rations that looked like they had been in cans since the time of the Empire. Serai continued to hold her silence, clearly aware that Ben was deep in thought.

A glint of burnished bronze caught his eye and he came to an abrupt stop in front of a stall selling dream-catchers and jewelry set with opalescent gemstones.

A voice caught him of guard.

"Here to buy yourself a necklace, Solo?" Kora appeared in the street behind him, with Baz standing silently by her shoulder. "I thought this was our area."

"Shush, Kora, I think he's—"

"Ahh, at last you've arrived." The new voice caused Ben to spin back around, only to find that a young girl—no older than twelve—had appeared behind the booth he had previously been surveying. "Grandmother told me you would be coming. She has the sight too, you know, just like us."

The child had pale blue skin stretched over thin limbs, a dark shock of hair, and eyes the color of bloody agate. "Well are you coming, or not?"

"What—" Kora began, but Ben cut her off with a sweep of his arm.

"Lead the way," he said, gesturing to the girl.

She smiled brilliantly and turned on her heel, scurrying down a side alley with such speed that Ben had to hurry to avoid losing her. They came to a stop outside a small tenement building, where the girl punched in a key-code before stamping the snow off of her boots and leading them into a hallway sporting chipped paint and mildew. The hairs on the back of Ben's neck rose, but he followed the girl deeper into the hovel, the tread of three pairs of footsteps close on his heels.

They entered a squat apartment finally, where a ragged figure was crouched before a fireplace. It was dark, and Ben could barely make out the curl of a back and a downturned face, cast in shadow. The room smelled of old people and despair.

"I've brought him, grandmother," the girl said. "He is tall, like you told me he would be, and he has fierce eyes."

"Good, child, good. Bring him closer, my sight is not what it once was." The figure spoke in a voice cracked with age and gestured with one thin wrist towards a low table to her right.

Ben sank to the floor on one of the threadbare mats located there, crossing his legs and doing his best to squeeze his large frame into the space provided.

"There are others here," the girl said. "Others with the sight."

"Very well," the old woman said. "They may stay, if they are silent."

"How did you know we were coming?" Ben asked calmly, trying to hide the creeping sense of unease that was beginning to overtake him.

"We?" the woman asked, lifting her head so that he could make out her cataract-fogged eyes through a tangle of snow-white hair. "I saw only one—the one who is two. He who has the power to shape what will be. I know why you are here, Ben Solo, but it is not why I called to you. No, I wanted to lay my own eyes upon you, to see that it was true."

"See that what was true?" Ben demanded.

"To see that you are what I dreamed of, in my youth. In the days of the Empire, when all was darkness. I had a vision—I had many visions then, when I was young. Before the sight faded into these weak premonitions." She waved a bony hand dismissively. "I saw that you would come, and that your birth would shake the foundations of the Force. She is not here, you know—the woman you seek."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Ben said tightly. "I'm not seeking a woman—I'm looking for a group of terrorists who—"

"Yes, yes," the crone said, "we will speak of them soon. You know not what you seek, and until you do, you are in grave danger."

"Danger from what?"

"From yourself, among other things," the woman said softly, her blind eyes sliding over Ben's face as if she really could see him. "From the one who shares your mind."

Ben jolted in surprise, almost scrambling to his feet but managing to suppress the action at the last moment.

"You don't know what you're talking about," he said bitterly. "It's just me, here."

"For now, perhaps," the woman said sadly. "But there always was a void in you, before her coming. A place for the darkness to slip in. Perhaps it was inevitable that you should end up this way. But no matter—the sands of time have shifted, as they say. Perhaps now, the worst will be avoided."

Ben simply stared at her, lost for words. He could feel the Force in her, feel it strongly, and he was unsure how he had missed it before.

"Please, ma'am," Serai said, finally stepping forward out of the shadows. "We're here in search of—"

"You tell me what I already know," the woman said, drawing her hunched form up imperiously. "Silence, child."

Serai stepped back, cowed.

"Son of darkness, son of light," the woman said, resuming her relaxed posture as she turned back to Ben. "I am glad that we have met. The ones you seek arrived here a fortnight ago and burned our mines on the eighth night of their stay. For six nights they have been in Abdurek, to the east. You will know them by their masks. But be warned—they are strong, and cunning, and they serve a master far more powerful than any you have yet faced. You would do well to proceed with caution."

"Thank you," Ben said, beginning to rise from his crouch. "We are in your debt."

"There is no debt," the woman said, reaching into the folds of her robe. "Though I have something you may need. Guard its wearer well, lest you fall into the darkness."

She held something out, and Ben accepted it, feeling the brush of her papery skin against his palm as he did so.

"Good luck, young Skywalker," she told him softly. "He of many names. May your future bring you the balance you so desire."

Unable to respond, Ben merely nodded and followed his companions into the hall.

It wasn't until they had exited the dimly lit building that he was able to make out the identity of the object the woman had given him.

It was a long strand of soft, thin leather, in exactly the same shade as the bracelet tucked in his breast pocket.

* * *

The mine would have been as black as night had it not been for the thin strips of blue lights tracing either side of the walkway. Still, Ben's eyes had struggled to adjust when they had first entered from the blinding white of the snowfield above. Here, perhaps a dozen meters below the topsoil, he could barely make out the whistle of the wind slicing past the main entrance.

"Remember," Serai was saying. "We're here to gather intelligence, not to start a fight. We want to figure out what these terrorists are doing and get back to the capital without tipping them off to our arrival—otherwise they might blow the mines ahead of schedule. So, stick to your cover and _don't_ draw weapons unless there's no other choice."

It seemed like an excellent plan, but Ben could think of a thousand different ways in which it could go wrong. He tugged at the loose-fitting miner's top he had donned for his excursion into the depths of the earth. Absently, he pushed away the feeling of Rey's presence in the back of his mind. He wasn't sure if she knew what she was doing, but she had become increasingly persistent over the past twenty-four hours. He was lucky that Snoke had been largely absent, although it did little to snuff out his fears that the two would—inevitably—come into contact with one another eventually. He would need to talk to her when he returned to Yavin 4—explain why it was important that she _stay away._

The four apprentices moved deeper into the mine, tailing a ragged crew that had agreed to show them the main sights of operation. Ben let his senses unfurl, questing deep into the stone for the touch of unidentified lifeforms. The job was made exponentially more difficult by the profusion of caged _ysalamiri_ housed at every intersection of corridors.

"Here we mine thorilide, for starship turbolaser canons," the crew leader was explaining to Serai in an undertone. "The detonations in nearby mines have been especially harmful because they set off our supplies of baradium bisulfate—an explosive compound that is used to extract the thorilide." The man's brow furrowed in a look of intense worry. "You do not think the raiders will come here, do you?"

Serai hesitated before answering. "We're not sure yet," she hedged. "Anything is a possibility, but we want to make sure everyone is safe." Ben could sense how she hated the lie, but their instructions from the government officials had been quite clear—do not incite panic in any of the mining outlets.

"If you hear anything unusual—anything whatsoever—you should evacuate your people immediately," Ben added. Serai shot him a grateful look over her shoulder.

"As you command, Master Jedi," the crew leader responded with a short bow.

"Oh, he's not a master," Kora said, laughing. "None of us are."

"Even so," the Chiss man said. "You have come here to aid us, and for this we are grateful." He executed another bow. "You will alert me if anything is needed?"

Serai assured him that she would, and the man moved away to supervise several of his other crew-members.

"I can't decide whether these people are terrified of us, or grateful to us," Kora whispered out of the corner of her mouth. "Or both."

"Both, I think," Serai responded lightly. "Although less so, here, in the presence of the _ysalamiri._ At least their presence tells us that the raiders are not likely to strike soon."

Ben grunted in agreement and the four apprentices continued onwards. Ben had a sneaking suspicion that he was the only one who could feel the Force, despite the caged reptiles around them, and so he did his best to make use of the boon. Unfortunately, the strange sense of superposition had returned—he felt as if he were standing in the middle of a forest, with vast trees towering around him. For a moment, Master Skywalker—

He pushed the thoughts away. The Force clearly wasn't helping.

"They won't be set up in the main regions of the mine," he said. "It would be far too conspicuous and someone would have called the alarm by now. Osulo mentioned something about old kyber deposits. If those existed, they would be in the deepest regions of the mines—the ones that had been totally stripped and abandoned as the operations shifted towards extracting thorilide. We need to find those old deposits."

Serai called one of the crew members over to ask, and several minutes later they were descending an old mine shaft in a creaking elevator that smelled of gasoline and dust.

"What do you think we'll find?" Kora asked quietly, her voice echoing in the cramped space. "Do you think they're mining kyber?"

"The kyber is gone," Serai said. "At least in quantities large enough to be useful for anything but—"

"Building lightsabers," Ben finished. "There could still be a few odd crystals left—something worth scavenging."

The elevator jolted to a stop and the _ysalamiri_ caged in its upper corner let out a sharp hiss of surprise. Ben had yet to see one of the creatures directly, as they were always hidden in their shadowy nutrient frames, but he imagined that they were fearsome animals, the size of his forearm or larger, with a wicked bite.

The four apprentices slid back the grate and stepped out into a dark corridor. The lights here were nonexistent, and their bodies cast long shadows in the glow emanating from the elevator lights behind them.

"High beams on," Serai said, reaching up to flick on the light attached to her miner's helmet. "Everyone good?"

The other three nodded assent and they stepped forward as one. Ben could feel the blood pulsing in his fingertips. Something was wrong.

It took him another twenty meters before he realized what was different. The Force had returned, and it was swirling around him in a chaotic frenzy. The beam of his headlamp fell on a dark pool on the floor.

"Stop," he barked, stepping forward and leaning closer. It was blood. He extended a hand. _Drip, drip._ Two drops adorned his outstretched palm. Standing, he tipped his head back.

Above him, tilted slightly askew, was a silvery nutrient frame. It was mangled, crushed as if by a huge force. Half of a reptilian body hung out—blood dripped over one of its clawed feet and pattered on the ground.

"Get back!" he roared. "Back to the elevator—it's a trap!"

Spinning around, the four apprentices froze. Framed in the light of the elevator door was a masked figure. In one hand it held the writhing, scratching form of a _ysalamir_.

With a swift motion, it slammed the creature brutally into one of the stone walls.

And then the lights went out.

* * *

Ben had never physically fought for his life before, but he had fought for his sanity, and he found that the two really weren't all that different.

Something about this was easier—the rush of adrenaline through his veins, the heightening of his senses, and the pulse of anger that drove clarity through his mind like a durasteel-tipped pike. An enemy before him was a thousand times easier to face than the demons constantly howling within his own skull.

"There are two more behind us," Serai hissed, igniting her lightsaber and scanning the dark tunnel with her helmet light.

The beam didn't reach far, only a few meters ahead, and suddenly a body came crashing towards them. Serai shouted and parried, her saber locking with the blade of a vibro-axe directed at her head. There was a hiss of melting durasteel, but the axe held under the fiery green heat of her weapon.

Ben ignited his own saber, turning just in time to confront another masked figure, this one bearing an oddly modified scythe that hummed with untapped power. He felt a wave of cold Force punch into his chest, and barely recovered in time to exchange a volley of blows with his attacker. Sparks flew each time the two blades met, but he was unable to cut through his opponent's defenses. He heard Kora cry out to his right, but didn't shift his position; he needed all of his strength to hold off the warrior pressing down on him. His foot slipped and he skittered back, nearly colliding with Baz's broad shoulders as the powerful apprentice dueled a fourth assailant.

The light was strange and flickering—aside from their headlamps and the glow of their sabers, the corridor was completely dark. Ben suspected that the masks of their attackers contained some sort of night-vision technology that provided them a better view of their surroundings.

He tipped his head back slightly so that the beam of his helmet shone directly through the eye slits of his opponent's mask. The figure stumbled back abruptly, and Ben landed a glancing blow on its shoulder. A surge of dark satisfaction welled up in him.

"Shine your lights in their eyes," he shouted. "Their night-vision sensors can't damp the change in brightness quickly enough!"

His attacker was back on him in an instant, a swirling, slicing frenzy of motion. Ben hissed as he felt his opponent's blade tug through the flesh of his right thigh. It _hurt_. The buzz of the weapon took on a whole new meaning as Ben felt blood beginning to trickle down his leg from what he had thought was a relatively shallow wound.

The four apprentices were being slowly herded away from the elevator—their only route of escape. Ben had a sudden thought, and switched his saber to his left hand so he could continue fighting as he reached for the commlink on his right hip with the other. His fingers were slippery with sweat, but he managed to press down the button and shout into the receiver. "Get out of here! Get yourselves out! Call in the militar—"

Lights flashed before his eyes as he took a blow to head and fell, lightsaber soaring out of his grip as his shoulder crashed into the ground. Blinking away spots, Ben tried to scramble upwards, wincing as he felt the deadweight that his left arm had become. _Dislocated._

He sensed the blade sweeping down towards the back of his neck a moment too late.

Knowing it would be futile, he nonetheless attempted to drop back to the floor, twisting slightly as he felt its smooth glide towards his exposed throat—

—and Kora's aquamarine saber skimmed out just in time, catching the scythe and deflecting it away.

Ben blinked in shock, feeling his pulse hammering in the aftermath of his near-death experience. Scrambling to his feet and giving her a jerky nod, he called his lightsaber to his hand. The blade ignited and he plunged back into the fight.

The battle waged on down the narrow hall, sparks flying and melted rock hissing any time one of the Jedi misjudged a blow or swung wide into the walls. Ben could feel his strength flagging as the searing pain in his quad grew, flaring up into his hip and down into his knee. He hit a crack in the floor and staggered, grunting in pain.

Quickly he regained his balance and lifted his saber, anticipating the next blow. None came.

The four apprentices stood in the center of a great cavern, the hum of their weapons the only disturbance amidst the silence. Dim light emanated from the walls, casting the room in a shadowy twilight, and as Ben peered closer, he could make out the fragmented shapes of kyber crystals poking up amidst the deposits of granite surrounding them. The crystals were the source of light, which flickered and undulated like a living thing.

"Look," Kora gasped, sucking in breath like she had just run a marathon. "There!"

The four swiveled as one, taking in the chilling sight before them.

Across the cavern stood a fifth masked figure, flanked by the other four. Gripped in its hand was a vibrant red lightsaber, humming with power and casting a bloody glow over its companions.

"You have fought well," the figure said, in a distorted but clearly masculine tone. "For younglings. But your master was a fool to send you here."

"Who are you?" Baz shouted back, his deep tones ringing through the cavern. "Name yourselves."

"I am Ren, of the Knights of Ren," the figure returned. "These are my brothers and sisters in arms. Prepare yourselves, Jedi scum, to experience the full power of the dark side."

Baz lifted his blue saber threateningly and took a ready stance.

"There are two more," Serai whispered, too quietly for Ren to overhear. "On the cliffs. Long range snipers, if I had to guess."

Ben nodded in approval, impressed by her ability to keep a level head under the circumstances.

Without warning, Ren snarled, lunging forward with blade outstretched.

The Jedi circled up, putting their backs together in a tight formation that would give them the best chance of withstanding the coming onslaught. Ben felt a deep well of rage rising up in his gut.

 _Good,_ Snoke's voice whispered. _Excellent. They are filth, that dare walk upon the earth. Strike them down and let their power become your own. Embrace your destiny, my son!_

Ben snarled and let the strength of Snoke's vitriol rush into him. He channeled it, honed it like a blade. The Force swirled around him in vortices of light and dark, the dark rushing upwards from within and overpowering the light. His blade flashed out once, twice, deflecting blow in an elegant dance of grace and danger. His free hand whipped out, sending one of his stunned combatants flying backwards with a push of the Force.

 _Yes!_ Snoke crowed, his glee taking on a nearly hysterical edge. _Crush them! Let your hate flow through you—it is a river far wider than you can possibly imagine; an ocean with no end. Take what is rightfully yours!_

Ben inched forward, on the offensive. He could see Ren to his right, his blade painting fiery arcs of crimson as Serai struggled to hold him off. Ben used the Force to rip the vibro-axe from the hands of his own assailant and spun, slicing his blade underhanded towards Ren's ribs.

The dark warrior responded instantly, his saber coming down to deflect as his other hand stretched out to freeze Serai's blow mid-swing. Her face transformed into a mask of panic as she struggled to free herself from the ensnaring web of his power.

 _He will kill her, and then he will kill you,_ Snoke whispered. _You must destroy him first. Do it!_

Ben roared, feeling the Force surge through him, so dark and never-ending that it was as if he rode a black wave of power. An ocean, as Snoke had told him.

The resulting blow hit Ren with such staggering intensity that he was flipped backwards, head over heels, landing catlike several meters away. Ben charged, abandoning his place in the circle.

"Ben, come back!" Kora cried, but her plea fell upon deaf ears.

All Ben could hear was the thrum of his blood, the rush of power as he battered down on the defenses of his enemy. Each blow was heavier than the last. He let the burning pain of his injury swell outwards until it nearly consumed him, lending him strength when he needed it most. The two moved in a flickering circle of blue and red, blades clashing in a dance as old as time itself. Neither was cold or calculating—both fought with a savagery unlike any Ben had felt before. It was good—it was right. To finally be unleashed in this way, to cast aside Skywalker's mumblings about emotion and fear and anger, and simply _be_.

When Ben saw the opening, he didn't hesitate. He twisted his blade in a deft stroke, sliding forward into Ren's space and slicing neatly through his right wrist.

The man let out a cry of pain, dropping to his knees as his saber skittered away.

Ben's blade was at his throat in an instant.

 _Good, my boy, good_ , Snoke praised, his oily voice creeping into Ben's mind. _Now do it. Kill him._

 _I shouldn't,_ Ben thought, chest heaving with exertion. He could hear the fight still raging on behind him, but he could only stare down into the blank mask of his defeated enemy. He tried to imagine what the other man was thinking. Did he fear death?

 _He would have done the same to you,_ Snoke reminded. _Kill him now! Claim his power as your own! Fulfill your destiny!_

Ben couldn't hear over the rushing in his ears. It swelled up, encompassing everything—the roar of battle, the wheezing of his own breaths, the shift of feet on loose stones.

The rushing stopped, replaced by perfect silence, and Ben noted absently that Snoke was gone. The rage that had pulsed through him was gone as well, and he felt only a vague sense of confusion until the awareness of another presence hit him.

He staggered, nearly losing his lightsaber as he spun around.

He had felt her. She was there.

Not in his mind, as an unwelcome guest, but really, truly there. He could sense her as if she were standing a hairsbreadth away.

If he had felt only anger before, now he felt the cold shock of fear. Not fear—terror. Terror unlike any he had experienced before. And the need—the desperate need—to get to her as quickly as possible. To protect. To defend.

His gaze spun left, right, Ren's prostrate form totally forgotten.

There, through the haze of the battle, he glimpsed her.

Her surroundings were indistinct, but she was not. She was a beacon of light, so small, her wide hazel eyes looking up at him in horror—at the ignited blade in his hand and the bloody wound on his leg.

He saw her lips moving, and knew they were forming his name.

She took a step forward, arm outstretched, his own fear reflected in her eyes. She was trying to tell him something, he could sense it, but the words didn't come out, just—

"Ben!"

Her cry cut through the muffled silence surrounding him just as a blaster bolt ripped through his shoulder, spinning him around and dropping him to the ground.

The last thing he saw as he slipped into darkness was the look of utter devastation painted across her young face as she faded from sight. The last thing he heard was the heart-rending song of her wordless scream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Oh my GOSH I am so sorry! I had to send my laptop in for repairs and it ended up taking over a month!! Just now getting back to this story and should hopefully be updating frequently for the next little while. Apologies for the wait!


	9. Magnetism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a friendship is forged, and Luke is told to kindly f*ck off.

"When you were young you used to dream about fires

And scream into the night

To find me standing barefoot at your side

I used to whisper it will be alright

And lay down at your side

And take your tiny hands into mine."

-Forest Fire, Brighton

* * *

_23 ABY_

* * *

The attic nook was dusty and cramped, but Rey didn't mind.

She had gone there to find silence, to withdraw into her own mind like a hermit crab retreating into its shell. The Force was quiet—just the thudding pulse of Rey's own heart and the steady movement of a creeping spider, spinning its web in the space before her eyes. Master Luke had told her that one day she would sense the Force in nonliving things—sky, water, earth, and fire—but she was secretly glad that she couldn't, yet. It was hard enough to shut herself off without their incessant chatter.

When she had first gone to her hiding place it had taken surprisingly little time for the other apprentices to locate her. Loren had tried to enter first, and he'd left with three jagged marks like cat scratches on his left cheek. Janneh had followed, and had been dissuaded by a roiling tornado of dirt and cobwebs. Next had come Colt, a silent, steady presence that had almost tempted Rey from her shelter. He hadn't tried to enter, choosing instead to sit cross-legged outside the door to speak to her, but Rey had been too panicked to listen. His words had come out in a funny buzz that had drifted over her without making an impression, and so he too, had left.

Master Luke had been the last, and he'd said nothing. She had only known it was him by pattern of his shuffling steps.

That had been three days ago, and now, finally, Rey had the silence she craved. The hours passed unwatched as she sat her silent vigil, waiting. For what, she wasn't sure. When she'd first fled to the attic to hide, it had been because the fear pulsing through her had been too overwhelming to think through. She had awoken in the infirmary, taken a glance around at the empty room, and been overcome by a rush of returning memories—

Waking early to a sense of deep anxiety that she couldn't shake.

Moving through the day slowly, as if in a fog. Attending her lessons with Master Luke, trying to open her mind to the Force around her. And then—utter silence. Like someone had pressed cotton into her ears and shoved her into a soundproof room. A presence had flickered through her mind— _his_ presence. She had spun and there, standing before her amidst the trees, was a familiar figure.

Ben.

He was slightly stooped, panting. His cerulean saber hummed in the grip of his right hand, while his left arm was cradled protectively across his chest. His face was smeared with grime and she could make out the blooming stain of blood on his pants. His raven hair hung in sweaty strands before his dark eyes, which were scanning the trees desperately, searching for something.

They landed on hers, and sound rushed back into Rey's ears. But it wasn't the lively chatter of living things—it was the clash of weapons and the cries of the wounded. Ben's lips parted slightly as a look of fear flashed across his face.

A wave of terror shook Rey—a premonition, a shock of certainty unlike any she had ever know. "Ben," she whispered, stepping forward. "Ben!" She lifted an arm, reaching for him desperately.

But it had been too late.

The red flash of blaster fire had cut through his shoulder—coming from nowhere and disappearing into nothing as he pitched forward, eyes—wide with shock—still fixed on her face, and she screamed and screamed and screamed as he disappeared before her eyes—

—and then Master Luke was in front of her, his voice raised in concern as he tried to get her attention—

—but she couldn't stop screaming, incoherent and thoughtless, a stream of pleas as she tried to charge past the Jedi master to the place where she had last seen his nephew, standing hunched between a giant fern and a towering tree to its left—

—but he was gone, and she sank to her knees, reaching out desperately into the Force in search of him, seeking him, begging him to answer her, but there was nothing, nothing, nothing—

—and she reacted in fear and rage, twisting something deep within herself and feeling the surge of wind cutting over her face, twigs whipping through the air and catching in her hair, stones shifting around her feet, trees bowing in the gale of panic that was pouring out of her in a never-ending stream—

—and then Skywalker had raised a single hand to her temple and she had flinched and—

—everything had gone dark.

She had woken in the infirmary, where she had experienced a few moments of calm before the panic had come roaring back in a great swell that had sent her scrambling from the room and fleeing to her hiding place in the attic.

Where she had been ever since.

The fear had slowly abated, particularly after she'd figured out how to shut herself off from the Force. After that it had been quiet. She hadn't been able to think, because she hadn't wanted to. The numbness was comforting, in its own way.

As the hours had ticked slowly past, the fuzziness in her head had grown. She knew from her time on Jakku that a person could only live so many days without water. A small, vague part of her mind kept saying that she needed to get up and go in search of food. Her stomach had stopped growling—stopped aching, even—a day previously, and she knew that it wasn't a good sign. But to get food would require movement, and thought, and another small part of her knew that if she allowed herself to move or think, she would have to remember Ben Solo, who was dead because she hadn't been able to convince him to stay.

Just like she hadn't been able to convince her parents to stay.

Just like she had never been able to convince anyone to stay.

The spider continued its journey across its nearly-finished web, almost coming in contact with the tip of her nose.  
Rey blinked slowly.

She had been alone, unmoving for so long, and yet she was still exhausted. Every time she closed her eyes to sleep, she was plagued in her dreams by Ben's stricken face and the shriek of blaster fire, by the echo of her own screams as she begged her parents not to go, and by the sight of three ships—an ancient Subpro shuttle, a Corellian YT lightfreighter, and a battered X-wing—disappearing into the upper atmosphere as she looked on helplessly.

Each time she was startled awake by the sound of her own sobs. So she waited.

The spider paused.

There was a shuffle of footsteps in the corridor. The hum of voices. One pair of feet departing. Rey heard the creak of door hinges and readied herself to rise up and drive away the offending intruder.

"Rey?"

The voice was so hesitant, so unexpected, that Rey almost thought she had imagined it.

"Rey?"

She jolted upright. _It couldn't be._

"Can you please come out? Skywalker is worried about you and I—"

The voice cut off as a large shape came into view. He was stooped over to accommodate his height in the cramped space. He caught sight of her and the mixture of concern and relief in his eyes almost stopped Rey's heart.

She let out a noise like an injured animal and flung herself from her hiding place between two old packing crates. She collided with his legs, clinging to them as a wave of dizziness passed over her. She wasn't sure whether it was a product of dehydration, or shock.

Ben Solo was alive, and he had returned to Yavin 4.

Everything was a mess of confusion for several moments. Ben staggered slightly and Rey was crying, sobbing, her face pressed against his stomach as she released what she as sure was a stream of incomprehensible words.

"Ben—I saw you—I was there—shot—thought you were dead—dead— _Ben—"_

She dissolved into tears, unable to focus on anything other than the solidness of him under her cheek. _Not dead._

"Rey," she heard him exhale. "Shhh, kid, breathe." He sank slowly to the ground, cushioning his descent with one arm. The other, she noticed suddenly, was in a sling. She didn't let it stop her from clambering over him and burrowing into his side, still shaking and sniffling as she fisted both hands in his shirt and refused to release her grip. She didn't care if he scowled or ignored her later—he was alive. _Alive._

There were tears dripping down her cheeks and nose, forming a damp patch of fabric over his ribs as he stretched his legs out in front of him and awkwardly draped an arm over her heaving shoulders.

Tentatively, slowly, just to be sure, she loosened her control on the tiny door that held her mind at bay. The Force seeped in gradually, and she seeped out, feeling the hum of the birds and the trees and the spider in the corner but mostly _Ben_ , the warm, enveloping _presence_ of him that surrounded her and drove away the mind-numbing fear that had gripped her for three days without cease.

He was alive. He had come back.

She felt him curl around her slightly, both in the Force and by drawing her closer to his side with one arm.

"It's okay," he said, and she opened her eyes, releasing her hold on the Force as she realized how unsteady he sounded, how uncertain. Drawing back slightly, she looked up at his face, blinking away the tears clinging to her lashes so that she could get a better view of him.

The first thing she noticed was his split lip—the second was the large purple and yellow bruise blossoming like a flower over his right cheekbone. Both looked painful and they made her heart ache fiercely as she took a moment to drink in the shape of his nose, the constellation of beauty marks on his cheek, the way his hair curled against his temple. Something about him was more vivid than any person she had ever met. His dark brown eyes gazed down at her steadily, but she could see the tension in his jaw as he pressed his full lips together.

"I thought you were dead," she said, still shakily but at least coherent this time.

The corner of his mouth twitched slightly, almost as if he wanted to laugh. "Sorry to disappoint," he said, making Rey blink in surprise. She had never heard him tell a joke before. She found she rather enjoyed it.

"If you hadn't shut yourself off from the Force like that, I could have reached you," he admonished gently. "I was worried."

The admission caught her even more off guard. "What—?" her voice come out creakily and she cleared her throat. "What happened?"

He shifted slightly, retracting his arm from her shoulders and causing her to lose her grip on his shirt. She suddenly felt cold.

"We ran into some trouble down in the thorilide mines of Csilla," he responded, his eyes leaving hers to scan the room instead. "A group of terrorists had been taking out operations all over the planet, and we were sent in for reconnaissance. We located them and went in to gather intel, but it turned into a trap. They were Force-users, and it was—we weren't prepared." He gritted his teeth angrily, as if biting down on an admission that displeased him. "They had us outnumbered—a fight broke out and—I'm not sure what happened." His voice became tight, and she could tell it was close to breaking. "But I saw you. There."

"I saw you too," Rey breathed. "In the forest, here on Yavin 4. Is that—does the Force sometimes work like that?" Even to her own ears, her voice sounded painfully hopeful. She could feel a sense of unease creeping over her skin, as if he were about the pull the rug out from under her unsteady feet. As if the news he had would be disastrous for them both. She watched his adam's apple bob as he swallowed.

"Not exactly," he admitted finally. "At least, not that I've heard of."

"But it happened," Rey said stubbornly. "You were here."

"I know," Ben exhaled. "And I don't understand it. Rey, there are things that you need to know. Things that I need to explain to you, but I'm not sure I can because I don't understand them myself. Something about you—it calls to me. Like we're—"

"Magnets," Rey supplied, her voice filled with trepidation. "We're like magnets. I can feel you pulling on me even when you're a thousand light years away. Do you feel it, too?"

"Yes," Ben said, and it was a breath, a sigh of relief as if he had been holding that single word on the tip of his tongue for years. "Don't be afraid. I feel it too."

Rey swallowed back the lump that had formed in her throat. "Then it doesn't matter how," she said resolutely. "Only that it is."

"The others won't understand," Ben informed her. "Master Skywalker and the other apprentices. They'll think it's unnatural."

Rey's face twisted into a furious scowl. "Well they're kriffing sculags," she spat angrily, voice rising, "if they're afraid of something just because they can't explain it."

She felt Ben watching her and glanced up again to take in his expression—equal parts shocked and impressed, as if he hadn't expected such a stream of curse words from a young child like herself. "Sorry," she muttered, and his lips twitched again.

"It is the way of the Jedi to fear the unknown," he said, a frown crowding out his almost-smile. "They are fettered by tradition, if nothing else."

Rey frowned. "Then we won't tell them," she decided. "It doesn't involve them anyways—just us."

She decided then that, in addition to Ben's jokes, she liked the way his face softened ever so slightly on the word "us."

"Your shoulder," she said finally, as the silence dragged out. "I saw—someone shot you."

"Yes," Ben said calmly, tilting his head back to look up at the ceiling. His dark hair pooled around his shoulders. "It's nothing. Nothing a bacta patch couldn't fix, anyways. Back up arrived just after and the terrorists—the Knights of Ren, they called themselves—managed to escape."

Rey wrinkled her nose, upset that he was more concerned about his escaping enemies than the physical harm to himself. "What's with the sling, then?" she asked.

"Dislocated shoulder," he explained. "Hurts a bit to move around still, but it'll be off in a day or two. Like I said, nothing." His gaze hardened, suddenly, becoming flinty. "What's this I hear about you locking yourself in this closet for three days? Care to explain?"

Rey felt her whole face flame red and became suddenly fascinated with the weave of his shirt so that she wouldn't have to meet his hard stare. "I thought—I mean—I was so scared." She hated herself for the way her voice cracked on the last word.

"Rey," Ben said gently, surprisingly gently, and she looked up only because she hadn't thought he was capable of that sort of kindness. "I'll always come back," he promised. "Don't ever be afraid of that."

Rey wondered whether perhaps he had been reading her mind. How else would he have known the fear that had plagued the last three years of her life—that every person she cared about was destined to leave her and never return?

"But," he said, and his voice was sharp again. "If I ever hear that you've pulled that sort of Sithspit again, you and I will be having words. Got it?"

"Yes sir," Rey squeaked, ducking her head in shame.

"Good," he said. "Now let's go get you some food. And don't call me sir—my name is Ben."

* * *

If Master Luke was surprised when Rey entered the mess hall at Ben's heels, he didn't show it. The other apprentices, however, were not so subtle. Eleven pairs of eyes swiveled to her face the moment she stepped through the door. Eleven pairs of eyes watched her cross the room and sit in the chair beside Ben's.

She noticed as she settled into her seat that there was a small black duffle at the foot of Ben's chair, and realized with a stirring of surprise that he had come straight to her upon his arrival at the temple. He hadn't eaten, hadn't put away his things—he had spoken to Master Luke and then he had hurried up the stairs with his damaged shoulder and his slight limp to find her. The thought sent a strange warmth through her chest, alongside a pang of shame. She couldn't bring herself to scan Loren's face for the scratches she had left there. She felt a lead weight of guilt settle in the pit of her stomach.

"More," Ben muttered quietly as she scooped portions onto her plate. She knew the word had been meant only for her, but she caught Serai's gaze snapping to his face. She obeyed.

The meal passed in utter silence aside from the click of utensils and quiet requests for food to be passed. Rey almost thought that she would escape unscathed—that no one would question her momentary lapse of sanity—until Nareek put down his spoon and grinned at her over the table.

"Can you teach us how to do it, Rey?" he asked cheekily. "Make tornadoes and throw things about?"

"What is he talking about?" Kora asked, rolling her eyes in disgust.

"It was wicked, it was," Nareek protested. "She just started yelling and screaming, and things started flying everywhere like in a hurricane. Almost got brained by a rock, I did. Tell 'em, Rey."

Rey flushed and sank deeper into her chair.

"Janneh said she made a dust devil up in the attic, as well," Nareek continued, unaware of the uncomfortable glares he was drawing from the rest of the table. "I've been trying for years and—"

"Nareek," Master Luke said warningly.

"—I can't pick up nothing. But Rey—"

"Shut _up_ ," Ben snapped, his deep voice cracking over the table like a whip.

Nareek froze, his face suddenly pale. Rey shrunk lower. The others looked on in surprise.

They washed the dishes in silence.

* * *

Rey had hoped that after Ben's outburst at dinner, the other padawans would allow her back into the fold sans teasing. And although they _had_ kept the teasing to a minimum, she could sense a marked discomfort in the way they interacted with her.

Colt was his usual ungainly self, smiling at the ground and complimenting her on her saber forms during drill session. He seemed to sense, as easily as breathing, that she didn't want to talk about the previous three days. Even more incredibly, he seemed to understand her reaction to what Master Luke had described as a "Force vision"—as if he thought it was perfectly normal to slip into a near-catatonic state for three days after a glorified dream in which a boy she barely knew took a blaster bolt to the shoulder.

Nevertheless, she appreciated his lack of judgement, especially in light of the lingering glances and confused stares she continued to receive from the other padawans. She wasn't certain whether they were disturbed by her actions—she had apologized and received full forgiveness from both Loren and Janneh—or by the fact that she had only been drawn from her sanctuary by the dreaded Ben Solo, he of the smoldering glares and the unrivaled bitterness.

She found that she didn't much mind being associated with Ben, if only because she thought they all had him incorrectly pegged. Whatever Ben Solo was, he wasn't a monster.

After his quiet admission that he noticed her—cared for her, even—Rey had assumed that Ben would stop avoiding her like the plague. Unfortunately, he had more practice than anyone at keeping to himself. He no longer glared at her in the corridors or kept a distance from her at meals, but neither did he make any effort to seek her out or speak with her.

It rankled.

Rey did her best to give him space, motivated by a mixture of sudden shyness and an unwillingness to disturb him as he recovered from his injuries. But when his sling was removed and he returned to full training, it became more and more difficult to stay away. Something about being apart from him was strange. She hadn't lied when she had described the tugging feeling she felt towards him—the constant need to be in his presence, to listen to him speak, to feel the Force curl around them and press them together like two halves of a whole.

On the fifth day, she finally gave in.

It was the meditation period, and for her first time since arriving on Yavin 4, she wasn't expected to sit through a private session with Master Luke. He waved her off absently, telling her to find a quiet place and be one with the Force.

Excited by her newfound freedom, she scampered towards the forest, intent on finding a spot amongst the trees to listen to the steady pulse of their existence. She moved aimlessly, but before long she found her feet guiding her down the side of a steep ravine and into an area that she hadn't previously explored.

The forest was nearly silent except for the tread of her boots on dried leaves and twigs. The canopy was cut through by golden beams of light cast by the setting sun, and up ahead she glimpsed a clearing, created by the fall of an old behemoth. She circled its downed trunk and moved noiselessly to the center of the open space. There was a sort of divot in the ground, as if someone had sat there before. She lowered herself into it smoothly, and blinked once in something like surprise.

If she closed her eyes and brought up the image of the dream she had once had aboard the _Falcon_ , the shape and height of the trees she had dreamed were an exact replica of those she was seeing now. In her dream she had hovered slightly above the ground, surrounded by a vortex of slowly spinning stones.

 _Where am I?_ she wondered, slipping into the Force like a swimmer slipping into a lake. It grew easier with every passing day.

She could practically taste Ben's presence in the air around her, and she knew suddenly that he had been here—recently. She momentarily considered leaving. It was clearly a place to which he came often—to meditate, if her strange dream was in any way associated with their connection. In the end her curiosity won out, and she shifted to a more comfortable position, exhaled smoothly, and closed her eyes.

The minutes slipped away like dripping honey. She could hear the buzz of insects and the call of a bird somewhere in the distance. Everything was peaceful, except for the slight prickling of the hairs at the base of her neck.

"What are you doing here?"

Rey's head snapped up as her focus deserted her.

Ben faced her from across the clearing, his eyes guarded. His voice hadn't sounded accusatory, so Rey smiled tentatively.

"It seemed like a nice place to meditate," she offered.

Now Ben scowled at her, his dark brows drawing together. "You know this is my place." It was a statement, rather than a question.

Rey wilted a bit. "Yes," she said hesitantly, pushing herself to her feet. "Sorry."

Ben pressed his lips together and the skin under his left eye twitched slightly.

Rey sighed and turned to leave.

"Wait," Ben said abruptly.

She looked over her shoulder.

"I suppose there's room enough for the two of us."

Rey didn't try to hold back the giant smile splitting her face.

Ben rolled his eyes and scowled, but she could sense the faint flicker of pleasure beneath his mask.

* * *

Rey quickly found more things to appreciate about Ben Solo.

He was tall enough to reach the highest shelves in the temple library, and he was patient when she asked him to sound out the larger words for her. She loved sitting across from him in a cushy armchair while he did research for his own lessons. He would always leave a book on the table for her—usually one of the simpler ones, a collection of legends or a story about the time of the Jedi. He rolled his eyes every time her eyes lit up at any mention of the Jedi Order, but he didn't rebuke her, just leaned back in his own chair and devoured pages at a rate faster than she could fathom.

When she joined him for meditation, he scowled and grumbled and generally made a fuss, but after a few weeks—on a day when she was running late from a lesson with Master Luke—she realized that he never started without her.

He watched her eat and dutifully pressed extra portions on her when he thought she wasn't getting enough. Perhaps the other padawans would have found it overbearing, would have huffed _you're not my_ dad, _stop telling me what to do,_ but it filled Rey's heart to the brim to have someone to finally take care of her.

He loved to work with his hands—whether he was fiddling with spare parts or practicing his calligraphy, they always seemed to be moving. He tried once to show her how to hold the brush, but after a few clumsy strokes he advised her to stick with a pen until her handwriting improved. Rey didn't take it personally, mostly because she much preferred to watch him create his own masterpieces.

Sometimes she caught him working with a small object—his fingers moving quickly, weaving strands of something together, but he always put it away when he sensed her presence.

"What are you making?" she asked him once, curious.

"Never you mind," he said gruffly, pressing a new book into her hands. "Read this—you'll like it."

And she did. She loved it.

On her ninth birthday—or what she had decided was her birthday, since she had no idea when it really fell—he presented her with a finely woven armband. It was the very same bracelet she had returned to him, but it had been painstakingly repaired, a new length of leather woven in amongst the old to connect the two broken halves. Finally, she knew what he had been working on all those days. He helped her tie it around her bicep and she couldn't stop smiling.

"This was mine, before," he told her. "Skywalker gave it to me. I threw it away when my parents forced me to come live at the temple."

"Forced you?" she asked, eyes wide. She tried to imagine Han forcing her to do anything, and drew a blank.

"I don't want to talk about it," he answered, shifting away and seeming to withdraw into some internal space.

She savored those snippets of his past, scarce though they were, and secreted them away to mull over in quiet moments. She tried to imagine a younger Ben, more care free, her own age. It was difficult. She couldn't imagine him being anything but wise and strong and comforting.

On some nights she would still wake, voice raw from screaming, sheets damp with sweat after another nightmare—about her parents, about Jakku, about Ben.

The first time it happened she was torn from sleep by a pounding on her door, and rose, still trembling from her night terror, just as the panel slid back to reveal Ben, panting, one hand still raised as if he had just pressed it against the locking mechanism. He looked shocked, but also frightened, and swept her into a hug that made her sob against his chest.

"W-what are you doing here?" she asked, when her tears finally abated.

"I—I felt your fear," he stammered. "Like it was my own. What happened?"

"A nightmare," she admitted softly, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and realizing that he was kneeling on the floor in his night clothes, dark hair wild around his face.

His sigh of relief stirred the hairs on top of her head as he rubbed small circles between her shoulder blades. "Okay," he said. "Okay."

And he had nudged her back towards her bed gently, like someone who was used to dealing with crying, terrified children who woke him in the wee hours of the morning.

"How did you open the door?" Rey yawned, sleepiness replacing her fear. "I thought only I could do that."

"Apparently you and I have more in common than we thought," Ben mumbled. "Sleep now."

Rey fidgeted with the edge of her tunic, fear sparking up in her chest again at the thought of returning to her nightmares.

"I'll be right here," Ben promised, settling with his back against the door frame. "Until you fall asleep."

She huffed slightly but crawled back between her sheets. The last thing she saw before she slipped into unconsciousness was the silhouette of Ben's hunched shoulders against the dim lighting of the corridor.

As the months passed, the frequency of Rey's nightmares plummeted. In the early days they woke her more often than not, but by the time winter came—or what passed as winter, on their jungle planet—she could go weeks without jolting awake to the echo of her own screams.

On the rare nights when they came roaring back in full force to plague her, she could always count on Ben to appear at her door, promising to keep watch until sleep found her again. Usually he sat in the doorframe, a dark sentinel against the ghosts that haunted her, but on the worst days, when she couldn't shake her panic even in waking, he would lean back against the side of her bed, hand outstretched so that she could hold it until she slipped into a deep, dreamless slumber. They never spoke during these meetings, and he always departed as soon as she fell asleep, leaving Rey unbearably grateful that she didn't have to put words to her thanks. He just knew.

As their acquaintance grew, Rey came to perceive that Ben faced his own internal battles. Occasionally he would grow silent, his face tense, and Rey knew then that it was time for her to leave. She would stand quietly, brush her hand over his shoulder or his arm or his hand, and exit quickly. Ben never explained to her why she had to go—never even told her that she had to—but she could read it in his eyes the way she read everything else he wanted to hide from her. In those moments he was afraid, and she knew that being near her made it worse.

Master Luke did little to oppose their new closeness. At first Rey tried to hide it by ignoring Ben at meals and passing him in silence in the halls, eyes trained on the floor so that they wouldn't betray her. But she soon realized that she was fooling no one—not Master Luke, and not her peers. How, after all, can you hide your closeness to someone who moves like your own shadow and is in tune with your every thought?

If the Jedi Master was in denial of their growing bond, he was disavowed of that notion one balmy afternoon on the training grounds. Rey and the other younglings were gathered in a circle, trying to lift grains of sand. It was a Force ability that none had mastered, although, like Rey, the others had shown accidental snippets of power during moments of high emotion.

"You must learn control," Master Luke had intoned as he set them to the task. "Passion is the pathway to the dark side—only through peace and balance can you fully master yourself."

Rey had furrowed her brow slightly, confused by the rigidity of the message, but she hadn't commented.

The task was irritating, to say the least. It was warm out, and there was a trail of sweat tracing its way down Rey's spine. Her skin felt itchy, and there was a faint buzz of discomfort surrounding her. She shifted in annoyance.

"Will you _stop,_ " Ninsar hissed. "You're breaking my concentration."

"Sorry," Rey mumbled, readjusting her tunic and focusing on the grains of sand. _Up,_ she thought desperately. _Go up._

Across the training ground she could hear the chatter of voices. Ben wasn't speaking, but she knew exactly where he was standing, amidst the rest of his cohort, gathered in front of Master Luke's old X-wing. Frustrated with her own task, she decided to listen in.

"That's it, Loren," she heard Luke rumble. "Gather the light around yourself and reach out—again."

Rey watched in awe as the boy's face tensed, the fingers of his outstretched hand curling with strain, and slowly, _slowly,_ the old starfighter seemed to shift, its metal parts groaning until, for a half a moment, she thought she saw it skim the ground before settling. Loren released his stance, gasping and shaking.

" _Very_ good," Master Luke praised, clapping the boy on the shoulder. "Really excellent work. Ben, you're next."

Rey lost all interest in the grains of sand as she watched Ben step forward, his height and broad shoulders dwarfing the older Jedi beside him.

"Relax, and act," she heard Luke say.

Ben extended a hand, and Rey took the opportunity to close her eyes and reach into the Force. It swirled around him, a great vortex with Ben at its center. She could feel him tugging on her, even now, the Force moving through her like a current and rushing into his outstretched palm.

But something was off.

She could almost feel his intention, his will to lift the X-wing from the grassy sward on which it rested, but the flow of the Force around him wasn't quite _right._ It was like watching a river try to carry a floating leaf downstream, but the leaf kept getting caught in the eddies, battered from all sides. The X-wing rattled slightly.

"No," she heard Luke say, and opened her eyes. "You have to _focus_ , Ben. I know you're strong enough for this—let go of your distractions."

Rey almost growled, deep in her throat, as she watched Ben's brow crease with frustration. She could feel his anger mounting, swelling under the surface. In her mind's eye, tendrils of darkness seemed to seep from the ground around Ben, winding up his legs in frigid tangles. The X-wing rattled more fiercely, lifting off the ground a few inches, a foot, swaying in front of the other apprentices who took a step back nearly in sync.

"No!" Luke snapped, breaking his nephew's concentration. The X-wing hit the ground with a rattling clang that drew the attention of the other younglings to the scene unfolding. "What have I told you? You open yourself to the dark so easily—but you must _not._ Only the light! If I have told you once, I have told you a thousand times! Put aside your anger and _breathe._ Again!"

Rey could sense Ben's conflict, his irritation only building under his uncle's tirade. She could feel him trying to put aside his emotions, even as they swelled in him and reached across the space between them, curling around her like icy fingers. He extended his hand again and the eddies returned, buffeting the X-wing but never moving it. It felt so _wrong,_ so unlike him, that before she had the chance to think of what she was doing, she found herself on her feet, striding across the field.

Master Luke didn't see her as she approached; he was too busy watching Ben with a fierce expression on his face. The other apprentices looked up, startled, but Rey didn't spare them a glance. Quickly, decisively, she closed the distance between her and Ben.

One of his hands was extended towards the starship, trembling with strain. His eyes were open but unseeing, a bead of sweat tracing down his temple as he struggled to focus his energy. His other hand was clenched at his side, knuckles white, tendons jumping under the skin.

It was for this hand that Rey reached, curling her small fingers around his wrist and sliding them downwards, forcing his palm open so that she could grasp it firmly. His grip was clammy, but so was hers.

The X-wing stopped trembling.

In her mind's eye—in the place where she viewed the Force, like some great, roiling storm cloud of energy—Rey felt something shift, align, right itself. The current of the river smoothed, the eddies disappeared, and she felt a massive rush of energy swirl through Ben as he exhaled and _pressed_.

The X-wing lifted from the ground, delicately, like a feather caught on the breeze. It rose up and up and up until Rey had to tilt her head back to get a look at it.

Something around her was singing. She felt weightless, just like the starship. She felt the Force pulsing through her like a heartbeat. She felt Ben's large hand wrapped around hers at the same time that she felt Rey's tiny hand cradled in her own. It was as if she had been a vessel lost at sea, with a broken rudder angled crosswise to the pull of the current so that she was buffeted and tossed and torn by the storm; but now a hand had reached out and secured the broken piece, adjusted its angle so that she slipped effortlessly through the gale, which wasn't really a gale after all, but rather a calming breeze that sped her over serene waters.

When she opened her eyes again, the X-wing had returned to the ground and Master Luke was staring at her with an thunderous expression. Ben's hand was on her shoulder, and although he seemed steady beside her, she could feel the slight tremor in his fingers. She knew that he was terrified of his uncle's reaction. She wished she could comfort him.

"What, exactly," Master Luke asked, deathly calm, "was that?"

Ben opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. He closed it again.

"Balance," Rey snapped, suddenly furious with the older Jedi for the way he had belittled Ben. "Do you have a problem with it?"

The look of stunned surprise on Master Luke's face was reward enough for Rey's belligerence. His flashing blue eyes grew so wide that she could see their whites all the way around. She thought for a moment that she caught a flicker of fear in them.

"Rey," Ben hissed, squeezing her shoulder once. The silence stretched thin.

"Be careful," was all Luke said, his tone icy. He turned on his heel. "Class dismissed."

Rey felt Ben staring down at her, and she looked up, forcing a smile onto her face. "You're pretty good at that," she said, pointing at the old X-wing.

Ben scoffed, and it was the closest thing to a laugh she had ever heard from him. "With your help, maybe." She could tell the admission pained him, as fiercely independent as he tried to be.

She shrugged. "That's what friends are for. Can you help me finish my book before dinner? I'm stuck on a big word."

The slight curl of his lips was the only reward she'd ever needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: hello y'all! Hope you enjoyed it!


	10. Demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buckle up, buttercups :)

"And I tried to hold these secrets inside me

My mind's like a deadly disease."

-Control, Halsey

* * *

25 ABY

* * *

The strip of cloth over Ben's eyes was scratchy, and the branch beneath his feet swayed with his weight. He could feel the warm afternoon sunlight cutting slantwise through the thick foliage above him, could smell the sharp pungency of cracked stems and bleeding tree sap, and could hear the distinctive low-pitched call of a whisper bird skimming the canopy. The blindfold blocked out all light, but the act of centering himself in the Force and reaching out was so second-nature that he almost didn't miss his eyesight.

He crept forward with care, placing each foot directly in front of the last as the tree limb narrowed. Heights had never bothered him, but he knew that a single misstep would send him plunging to the forest floor nearly a hundred feet below. Skywalker had strung up safety nets under the majority of the practice grounds, but Ben's circuitous route had long since led him away from the rest of the padawans.

The pop of a snapping twig cut through the silence and Ben froze, blindly scanning his surroundings. Twenty feet ahead the branch he balanced on tapered into nothing. A vast empty space followed—perhaps another thirty feet—before the limbs of the adjoining tree filled up the void, their leaves buzzing as the Force spun through them like gossamer strands. There was a flicker in the corner of his mind, like soft moth wings, there one moment and then gone the next. Nothing else seemed amiss. _Probably Snoke checking in,_ he rationalized, returning his attention to the maze of foliage before him. It was a long jump, to be sure, but not impossible for someone with Ben's Jedi reflexes. And ahead was his goal—a scrap of blue silk fluttering on the breeze, trapped in the joint of two stems.

Still moving carefully, he crept forward. The bark beneath his feet was smooth, and the wood pliant. To maintain his balance, he walked with arms outstretched and sought to control his breathing. His pulse was a steady thump. He crouched, ignoring the twist and roll of the branch beneath him. As the limb bobbed upwards he used its momentum to fuel his push-off, executing a perfect flip that took him directly towards—

Brightness flashed as something small and compact struck him in the ribs, tumbling him sideways. He twisted in the air like a cat desperate to land on its feet. The ground was rushing up towards him in a blur; he could feel leaves and twigs clawing through his shirt as he sought for a way to slow his descent. Suddenly—with a force that knocked all of the wind from his lungs—he landed face down on a sturdy limb.

"Ow," he huffed, clawing the blindfold away and attempting to flip over. He was stopped by the presence of a weight pressing between his shoulder blades.

"Rey," he admonished. "Off."

"You didn't see me _that_ time," she crowed happily, crawling off of him and pulling off her own blind fold. "Admit it—you were surprised."

Ben snorted and rolled his eyes. "Of course I wasn't—"

"Nuh uh," Rey interrupted, her hazel eyes glittering as she grinned up at him. "You thought you had it—you didn't know I was there."

Ben chewed the inside of his cheek and scrubbed the back of his neck with one hand. "Look—"

"What happened?" Nareek called, skipping across nearly forty feet of empty space to land catlike on the branch beside them. He too, peeled back his blind fold.

"Ben tried to sneak around the back and Rey _totally_ wrecked him," Kora answered primly, landing beside Rey and patting her fondly on the shoulder. "That's our girl."

Rey beamed up at her before returning her attention to Ben, searching for his approval.

Ben glared back at her for a long moment before he finally scoffed and dropped his gaze. "Whatever, kid." He could practically feel the happiness radiating off of her as the other padawans began to gather, clearly sensing the end of the training session. "Next time _I'll_ be on defense, and we'll see if you get anywhere _near_ the flag."

"Like last time?" Rey inquired cheekily, bumping her shoulder against his hip casually. She had undergone a growth spurt in the year and a half since she'd arrived at the temple, but Ben still found himself shocked at times by her diminutive stature. He assumed it was an artefact of her malnourished childhood, a thought that brought a dark scowl to his face.

" _Not_ like last time. I still think you cheated."

" _I_ still think you're a sore loser," Rey informed him.

"Whatever."

* * *

Skywalker's arrival put an end to the good-natured ribbing, and the cohorts moved in different directions—Rey's group to a lesson on intergalactic politics, the middlings to a session of saber training under Serai, and the rest left to their own devices.

Ben moved briskly towards his quarters, where a thick book on the endemic species of Naboo awaited him, along with an unfinished calligraphy project that he itched to get his hands on.

 _What's your hurry?_ a silky voice wove through his mind.

To his credit, Ben was by now so practiced at hiding his feelings that he didn't even panic. He just tucked the fond memory of his playful competition with Rey into the increasingly large space that she occupied in his mind, pushed it deep, deep down, and greeted his oldest companion.

 _Not often that Skywalker gives us time to ourselves,_ he confessed. _The old man is a slave driver._

 _He does have the annoying habit of keeping you occupied with utter nonsense,_ Snoke conceded, his low drawl filled with disdain even inside Ben's head. _It's a wonder you accomplish anything useful. Did you get those communications I asked you for?_

Ben almost winced externally, but stopped himself at the last minute. _No, master._ He had learned that Snoke appreciated being called "master." It was often the best way to head off a scathing internal tirade. _Skywalker keeps them well hidden—besides, I don't understand why they're important._

 _They're important,_ Snoke responded, in a tone that suggested he was speaking to an infant, or else, some other miserably stupid creature, _because that sorry excuse for a Jedi is_ up _to something. He's been in contact with the New Republic—you told me so yourself._

_Skywalker is always in contact with my—with Leia Organa. I don't see why—_

Snoke cut Ben off. _This is different. There have been…stirrings. Skywalker senses a shift in the balance and he is acting to head it off._

 _Isn't that good?_ Ben asked, for what wasn't the first time.

 _Perhaps it would be, if Skywalker hadn't such an insufferable ego,_ Snoke hissed. _He defeated a Sith Lord and now he believes he knows what is best for the galaxy. Do you think he knows best, young Solo? After the way he has treated you all your life? Like something to be feared, a waste of time and space, a creature unworthy of his noble bloodline?_

Ben grimaced, working his jaw irritably. _He certainly has his flaws,_ he admitted darkly.

 _Exactly,_ Snoke praised. _So, wouldn't you rather know what he's up to? Perhaps you're right, and he truly is good and noble. Or perhaps he fears this awakening because he senses a shift in his own fortune. The Sith and the Jedi are similar in almost every way, my young apprentice. Including their quest for greater power. And remember: all who gain power are afraid to lose it._

Ben swallowed hard, scowling at the ground. _Fine. I admit it—you're right. I do want to know what he's up to._

_Good. Very good. Now tell me—how goes your training?_

Ben quelled the small corner of his mind that flickered to Rey's rapidly progressing talents—her ability to sense danger before it struck; her growing skill with a quarterstaff; the internal compass that always seemed to guide her to him, no matter where he was.

 _It goes well,_ he told his companion. _Your teachings have been most helpful. It is easier now to hide the darkness from Skywalker. He suspects nothing._

_And the others?_

Again, Ben's mind jumped unbidden to Rey—the small crease of concern between her eyebrows whenever he lost his temper; the soft touch of her hand on his when she sensed his conflict; the silent pleading in her gaze when he refused to talk about his past. He knew that she sensed the darkness in him, and yet, inexplicably, he felt the need to shelter her from what he was, and what he was becoming. He had long known that he hadn't the strength to stay away from her. But he did have the strength to protect her.

 _The others are equally clueless,_ he promised. _They fear me as they always have._

 _Excellent,_ Snoke crooned. _You have done well. As long as I have known you, I have sensed your strength of character. Least loved by your parents, most despised by your uncle, eternally forgotten by those meant to care for you. There was an emptiness in your soul before I found you, but I sense that it is healed now. Where there was conflict, I now sense resolve. Where there was weakness—strength. You have come into your own young Solo, and it has been my greatest honor to help guide you—to offer myself to you as your humble servant, your tireless mentor._

 _Yes, master. Thank you, master,_ Ben responded, surprisingly gratified at the turn of the conversation. He had been expecting punishment, at the very least. The last time Snoke had visited him, he had been left with a raging migraine that lasted for days.

 _Very well. Then go forth and do as I have bid you. Only when you know the heart of Skywalker can you_ truly _be safe._

And Snoke slipped from his mind like a tendril of smoke, leaving Ben feeling equal parts grateful and uneasy.

* * *

When Ben Solo had first returned from Csilla, nearly a year previously, he hadn't known quite what to do. From the moment Rey had faded from sight in the depths of the Chiss thorilide mine, he'd been in a state of almost ceaseless panic. Where had she gone? How had she been there? He knew in his heart of hearts that she _had been_ —that her presence had been more than a vision, more than a fevered nightmare created by his own disturbed consciousness. But he couldn't explain her presence. Neither of them was strong enough to create a Force projection, and certainly not over the vast distance between Yavin 4 and Csilla. And yet, there she had been.

No surroundings. Just her.

When he was finally cleared to travel back to the Jedi temple after two agonizingly long days of debriefings and intelligence reports, Ben demanded immediate departure with an insistence that had shocked his fellow padawans.

"Don't you hate Luke, or something?" Kora asked bluntly. "Why are you in such a hurry to get back?"

 _Because,_ Ben hadn't said, _I haven't sensed Rey in two days, and this—this absence—can only mean that something terrible has happened to her._

Instead, he had fixed his companion with a fierce glare and gestured to his own arm—still in a sling—as if to suggest that he only wanted to rest instead of wasting more days on a planet far from home.

Entering the atmosphere of Yavin 4 was terrifying—walking through the front blast doors doubly so—because Ben had realized with a deep certainty that Rey was gone. It had shaken him in a way that nothing ever had, so when he met Skywalker, stony-eyed, in the mess hall and heard a fantastic story about Rey's Force vision and her subsequent retreat into the attic, he was too relieved to consider the consequences of going to find her.

And when he'd seen her, huddled between two crates like a frightened animal, her wild eyes upturned towards his voice, he'd been incapable of walking away. When her small, fragile arms wound around his waist and squeezed him with all the strength of a kitten, he hadn't the heart to push her aside. He only had the strength to sink to the floor and cradle her sobbing form against his side, and pray desperately that Snoke's thoughts were far, far away.

And for once in his life, Ben Solo's luck had held.

After that first reunion, with the words of his admission still cooling on his tongue, Ben struggled to return to life as it had been. He managed to hide that one interaction from Snoke—as powerful and all-consuming as it sometimes felt—but to continue interacting with the girl would be sheer stupidity.

He lasted all of five days.

In the end, he told himself that the strength of his urge to protect her would have to be enough. He had fooled Snoke once; he could do it again. Furthermore, a quiet, desperate part of him recognized that leaving Rey to the wolves would be almost as terrible as revealing her presence to Snoke. And, to be frank, he didn't truly believe that he could've managed it anyways.

And so, their friendship had begun.

It was terribly difficult at first. They progressed in fits and starts, with Ben holding Rey at tense arms-length. Her bright smile and her high laugh were two of the only things that could stir him from his frequent states of apathetic misery, and he found that—despite her age—she was rather clever. Sometimes she treated him like a wild creature—one that could only be tamed with kindness. He hated it, even as he longed for it, and he couldn't bring himself to snap at her and send her scurrying as he did the others. He regretted his innate childishness, and loathed himself for requiring the comfort of an _actual child._ But something in her softened something in him, and he found himself able to bear it.

Hiding her from Snoke had been another issue. In the early days, Ben lived in a state of constant unrest, shunning sleep for fear that he would awaken to find Snoke picking through his unguarded thoughts. Soon he realized that fatigue was the quickest route to disaster, and began a nightly ritual of burying Rey so deeply in his subconscious that not even Snoke could root her out without waking him.

In his conscious hours he had become more adept at shielding his mind. Rey occupied an almost constant role in thoughts, but he soon perfected the art of spiriting her away in the fraction of a second between Snoke's first contact and the lazy probe that he predictably twisted into Ben's psyche. Luckily, Rey herself was a quick study. She had immediately learned that—while it was fine to push the occasional thought to Ben in moments of boredom or solitude—entering his mind was expressly forbidden. Furthermore, she had an almost preternatural sense for Ben's moods, and had developed the habitat of leaving the room the moment Snoke's presence appeared.

Initially Ben had been almost certain that she could sense his internal companion, and was leaving out of disapproval or disgust, but soon he came to recognize that she was only responding to his own unconscious tics—the tightening of his jaw or the staccato rhythm of his bobbing knee. He appreciated her for it, even as he wished that he could confess to Snoke's existence.

Ben's inner dichotomy was a weight on his heart.

From the earliest days of his childhood he could remember feeling a certain rawness in his mind, in his very soul. He had tried to explain it to his father once, around the age of six, and had earned such a disturbed stare that he had never brought it up again to anyone.

Snoke had come from the raw place, offering kind words and explanations. He was there, he claimed, to help guide Ben to his true destiny. _The emptiness you feel will only be filled when you attain the power that is due to all those who share in the Skywalker bloodline,_ Snoke had promised him. _I can help you to achieve that power, and you will never have to explain yourself to Han Solo again. He isn't a Skywalker, like you, so he will never be able to understand._

Ben had been an inordinately trusting child, desperate for any source of affection in the wake of his perceived abandonment by his absent mother, his clueless father, and the giant gaping space in his chest. And Snoke had filled his emptiness with praise, and companionship, and warmth. Ben had always loved his parents, but Snoke had offered him something more. Answers. And the strength with which to demand them.

But now, the emptiness in Ben's heart was gone. There was no space for his most loyal companion to fill, and he was confused by the sudden suspicion he held against his one-time confidant. Everything that Snoke was—a companion in the dark, a friend of his heart, a patient teacher—Ben had rediscovered in a young padawan whose hazel eyes and gap-toothed grin twisted his conscience in knots whenever he thought of the darkness that plagued him.

 _Darkness is not a sin,_ Snoke had promised. _To achieve a balanced understanding of the Force, we must embrace_ all _sources of power. The darkness in you is powerful._ Use _it. Would a Jedi throw away his light saber because he didn't like its color?_

 _Perhaps Rey would disagree_ , Ben often thought to himself.

And that was the crux of the matter. Snoke was the only creature with the grace to accept all parts of him without complaint. His greatest fear—the one buried deeper even than his memories of Rey's first Force-push, teaching her to swim, watching her finish her first Jedi text—was that when she realized what he truly was, she would run.

Just like all of the others.

As his pen finished the last stroke of the ink drawing he had been laboring over for weeks, Ben considered that perhaps his instinct was true. Perhaps there was something he was missing. About Rey, about Snoke, about Skywalker's strange communiques with the New Republic. Perhaps there truly were stirrings in the Force. Only by uncovering the truth could he truly put his mind to rest. He pressed a hand to his temple in a fruitless effort to postpone his mounting headache.

Absently, he scanned the likeness before him. The idea had come to him many months ago, as Rey had stood at his side and served as the conduit through which he had lifted Skywalker's X-wing into the sky. As the moment had passed, he could recall looking down at her small figure, a patch of brightness in his shadow.

His mind had flickered momentarily to a history text which his mother had gifted him prior to his departure for Yavin 4. Skywalker had taken one look at the book and labelled it "trash," primarily in response to a few less-than-scathing remarks on a certain group of darkside users who had existed apart from the Sith and the Jedi.

Ben hadn't cared much for the essays on various religious sects that had existed in the time of the Old Republic. But he had been fascinated by one faded image depicting a magnificent warrior split down the center by a lightsaber held aloft—one side dark, the other light.

The figure had hidden in his imagination for years until he had looked down at Rey, so vibrant against his darkness, and had felt the itch to dig out his pen.

The drawing was simple, really. It was stylized and lacked strong detail, but showed a girl garbed in white vaulting in a graceful backflip over a larger man whose dark tunic and hair stood out starkly against her brightness. The two were circumscribed within an almost perfect circle—one half black and the other white, with the exception of their two outstretched arms: the girl's palm flung back, casting a pale mark over the center of the man's chest, while his dark gloved hand supported the center of her back as she flipped.

It was a gift for Rey's tenth birthday, which was the next day. He hoped that it would stir memories of her early days at the temple.

Blowing on the ink to dry it, Ben rolled the paper into a tight scroll and hastily encircled it with a scrap of twine lingering in the back of his desk drawer. It wasn't beautiful presentation, but he knew Rey wouldn't mind.

Absently, he gathered the rest of his supplies and stood, rolling his shoulders to loosen the tension that had gathered in them after several hours of putting the finishing touches on his gift. Glancing at the time piece on his desk, he realized suddenly that the dinner hour had passed unnoticed. His stomach rumbled hungrily and he thought sourly of the tongue lashing he would surely receive from Skywalker as a result.

 _There are no meals for students that can't be bothered to watch the hour,_ Skywalker had told him once, just a week after his arrival at the temple. _You will have to wait for breakfast._

Fifteen-year-old Ben had been furious, but nineteen-year-old Ben couldn't find it in him to care.

* * *

Ben's knock was both polite and discrete. Although they had learned early in their friendship that Rey's door panel responded to Ben's touch, he had since made a point of never crossing her threshold without explicit invitation. It made Rey roll her eyes and tease, but Ben could well-remember his own surliness and demands for "personal space" at her age.

The door slid back and Rey's face tipped slowly back to make eye contact with him. A grin broke over her features. "Ben!" she exclaimed, stepping back and waving him in. "Where were you at dinner?"

"Busy," Ben said shortly, surveying her room. He didn't enter often, but when he did, he enjoyed seeing the scraps of life she had amassed therein. His own room was spartan, containing only furniture, a few changes of clothes, and his calligraphy set. But Rey's personality seemed to overflow from the very walls—pressed leaves and flowers adorned her desk, and a row of beautiful shells and pebbles bedecked her window sill. In the far corner was a pile of scrap metal, and the top of her dresser was mostly taken up by a half-built contraption that she claimed would be a functioning power converter when she was finished.

"For the kitchen circuit," she had explained to him once. "One of the serving droids was complaining that the system keeps shorting out and causing the door to close when he's halfway through."

The corner of Ben's mouth twitched at the memory.

"Just busy?" Rey asked, plopping into the middle of her bed as Ben sank into the chair beside her desk. "So busy that you forgot to _eat_?"

"I was making something," Ben said placatingly, unveiling the scroll with a flourish. "For you."

Rey's face lit up before she suddenly scowled. "You know I hate birthdays, Ben," she said. "I don't even know if it's my actual birthday, anyways. I wish you wouldn't—"

"It's not your birthday," Ben reminded calmly, his eyes travelling rapidly between hers to judge her reaction. "I know you hate birthdays, meaning that this gift is simply that—a gift, from one friend to another. Were I to give it to you tomorrow it would then become a birthday gift, but since I'm giving it to you today…"

Rey laughed as he trailed off, shaking her head. "Clever, Solo." She extended her hand. "Well, alright then. If you insist."

"Not yet," Ben admonished gently, withdrawing his hand and studying her carefully. "First I want to hear how you hid yourself from me today."

Rey's smile turned into a smirk of pleasure. "Simple," she told him. "By not trying to hide myself."

Ben tipped his head slightly to one side.

"It was because of what you told me last time," she explained hurriedly. "No matter how hidden I am from Luke and the others, you can always sense me in the Force—the same way you sense yourself. You can tell that I'm trying to hide, but it's like 'trying to hide the existence of your own two hands by putting them behind your back,'" she quoted him. "So I thought I would try not hiding at all—I just hid my intentions. Or, not hid them really—I made sure I didn't have any. I figured that if you couldn't sense my intention to stop you, you would assume I was somewhere else entirely."

Ben leaned back, grudgingly impressed. "Smart. You banked on the fact that I was so accustomed to your Force signature that I wouldn't think anything of feeling you."

Rey beamed and shrugged modestly. "It stands to reason that if we can sense each other from across the galaxy, you wouldn't notice the difference of a few hundred meters."

"Hmmm," Ben hummed. "You know that trick will only work once, right? Now that I know your strategy."

"I know," Rey said. "I'll just find another way to trick you."

Ben kept a straight face in the presence of her teasing smirk, but barely. A companionable silence stretched between them.

"Ben?" Rey asked softly, sliding towards the edge of her bed. Ben blinked at her change in tone, but angled his shoulders towards her and met her gaze.

"Yes?"

"Why…why are you only like this with me?" she asked tentatively, gesturing between them with one hand. "I mean—why aren't you friends with the others?"

Ben clenched his jaw and felt the muscle beneath his left eye tick almost imperceptibly. He knew Rey would catch it.

"I don't want to talk about it," he answered, more sharply than entirely necessary. He could see the hurt in Rey's eyes, and he silently commanded himself to take a deep breath.

"You never want to talk about it," Rey complained, a petulant edge entering her tone. "Please? We're friends. Friends tell each other things. I told you about Plutt and the other scavengers."

Ben's hand formed fists as he shifted in his chair. The reminder of Rey's cruel former-master hadn't done much to cool his mounting ire. He had recurring fantasies about the pain he would love to inflict upon the Crolute that had treated her so cruelly.

"This is different," he managed to say, when he felt able to speak without shouting. "It's none of your business."

"Is it for the same reason you don't like Han?" she pressed.

"Yes. No. It's complicated."

"If you would just explain it, it wouldn't be."

Ben sighed heavily and dragged a hand down his face in exhaustion. He had come to give Rey a gift, and now he was being grilled. He hated hiding things from her, but he was also terrified to bare his own weaknesses before her eyes.

"I was just—never good at making friends, okay?" he said. "People don't like me."

"I like you."

"You're different. You don't judge people without knowing them. Although the _real_ reason you don't hate me is probably because whatever strange Force connection we have doesn't let you," he answered bitterly.

"That's not true!" Rey protested, leaping to her feet. In his seated position, the top of her head was barely level with his chest. "We're friends because you're kind, and thoughtful, and you listen to me."

Ben snorted, avoiding her piercing gaze. "I spent weeks trying to drive you away. I told Skywalker to send you to another planet."

"And I know you had a reason," Rey pressed. "You were protecting me from something."

Ben froze, a bubble of panic beginning to form in his throat. "You don't know that," he said hoarsely.

"I do," Rey insisted. "For once in your life, give me an honest answer! Why do you hate the other padawans? Why do you hate Master Luke?"

"I don't hate them," Ben enunciated carefully.

"Then why do you push them away? Why?" Rey's tone was rising, and Ben could sense her mounting frustration, but did nothing to quell it.

"It's not your business!" he shouted.

"Yes, it is!" she flung back at him, her small fists balled at her sides. "I'm in your _head,_ like you're in mine! Won't you stop _hiding_?"

Ben opened his mouth to retort and almost choked at the familiar sensation of another mind entering his, unbidden. His felt his fingers constrict around the scroll in his hand, and forced them to release, dropping the battered parchment to the ground.

It wasn't Rey.

_No. No no no no no._

Ben screwed his eyes shut and breathed out heavily through his nose, standing with what he hoped was some semblance of dignity.

 _Something the matter?_ Snoke drawled, at the same time that Rey asked, "Where are you going?"

Ben's head pounded as he struggled to block out her voice. _Nothing, nothing, NOTHING,_ he thought, a mantra to drown out the words that slipped past his teeth. "Away from here."

_Oh, really?_

Ben didn't have to open his eyes to sense the hurt look on Rey's face. She was all around him, swarming his senses. But she didn't feel tender, like she usually did. She felt angry.

He needed to get away.

Steeling himself, he drew the image of Ninsar's face into his mind, and let his eyes flicker open. The Mirilian girl was a bit taller than Rey, but he hoped the deception would hold for the few moments that it took him to stand and make his way to the door—

—that was now blocked by Rey's fragile, seething form.

"Move," he snapped, letting his anger take over and projecting the emotion towards Snoke. _Stupid younglings,_ he thought. _Always in the way._

Snoke hummed in approval.

"No," Rey refused, crossing her arms over her thin chest in a gesture of defiance that would have been endearing if Ben hadn't felt as if his thoughts were trying to spill out of his ears. "You always do this—you always run away when I try to ask you things. We're friends, Ben. _Friends._ I _know_ something's hurting you—it's tearing you apart." He struggled mightily to hold onto the image of Ninsar's face as he watched tears pooling in Rey's eyes. Her voice trembled as the anger seemed to fade out of her. "You always help me; won't you let me help you for once?"

 _Fascinating. A young admirer?_ Snoke hissed. _I didn't know you had close friends._

Ben cursed himself and his inability to hide Rey's heartfelt confession from his companion. But all was not lost—Snoke didn't know of Rey's existence, and explaining away the adoration of an insistent follower wouldn't be too difficult with the right words.

 _She's nothing,_ he told Snoke. _A youngling who believes I care for her. Pathetic, really._

 _You are both wise and beneficent to humor the wills of your younger peers,_ Snoke praised. _Every great ruler needs loyal followers. I admit myself impressed—I always knew you commanded fear, but to truly win another through deception and charisma is not a gift that I knew you possessed._

Ben's throat clenched on the word "deception" as he struggled to formulate words that would move Rey from his path without tipping off Snoke.

"Not now," he finally managed. "Move."

The wrong words, as it turned out.

He saw Rey's eyes harden at the same time that he felt her consciousness press into his. He wasn't sure how she had developed the skill to batter aside his walls—perhaps he had no walls that could stand against her, for one moment they were two separate entities, minds gently brushing, and the next she was inside his thoughts, scattering memories and picking at threads that she had no business picking at.

Like a starship crash in slow motion, Ben watched the collision course between Rey and Snoke. He sensed the moment when they saw each other, felt the moment of silence that followed fill him up, like they were two animals eyeing each other warily across a great distance.

A strangled sound ripped from his throat and his vision spotted as he flung both invaders from his thoughts with a single surge of desperation.

He didn't remember shoving Rey out of his way, or Force-slamming the door shut behind him. He regained a flicker of awareness as he stood, chest heaving in the corridor. Enough awareness to realize that the door would do little to slow her once she gathered her wits about her.

When faced with confrontation, Ben always chose fight over flight. He had returned home to Han and Leia with bloodied fists more than once as a child. It was a predictable pattern—an argument started, Snoke's voice stoked his already considerable anger, and Ben walked away with the vague recollection of punches thrown and blows taken. As he had grown older, there had been more of the former and fewer of the latter. Never in his life had he fled from a fight.

Perhaps Rey really had changed him.

Because, for the first time in his life, Ben Solo turned and ran.

* * *

Ben wasn't sure how long he had been running, only that he felt a stitch forming under the right side of his ribcage. His mind was a blur of panic, impenetrable even to the two beings who knew him best. The two beings who were certainly doing their damnedest to weasel their way back into his thoughts. Ben welcomed the blank void of fear—when he calmed enough to think rationally, he would have to deal with the fallout of this disastrous evening. But as long as he kept moving, he was safe.

It couldn't last forever.

An indeterminate amount of time had passed when one of Ben's fatigued feet caught on a tree root and sent him plunging face-first to the forest floor. He lay on the ground, sucking in great gasps of breath. The musty smell of dirt and moss was soothing, and he didn't try to move.

 _No,_ he thought into the empty space of his blank mind. _No no no no no._

 _Oh Ben,_ Snoke whispered, in a voice that felt oddly kind for someone who had just discovered a deception that spanned more than a year. For it was all there now—every memory, every interaction, laid bare in his weak, defenseless mind for the taking. _Oh, my poor boy. You should have told me._

Ben gritted his teeth and shoved himself up off the ground, swiping a hand across his mouth and chin. It came away sticky with blood.

 _Ben, I never meant to hurt you,_ Snoke said soothingly. His voice felt familiar, in a way that slowed Ben's racing pulse. _I will be honest with you. Is that what you want? My honesty?_

Ben said nothing, which his companion took as assent, because he continued.

 _You were right,_ _you know,_ he said. _When the girl—Rey, is that what you call her?—first arrived, I_ did _recognize her. I knew immediately what she was, and I feared for you._

Ben's confusion must have reached Snoke.

_I know, young Solo. I know that she seems harmless and sweet. They all do, at first. Even Darth Vader was a Jedi once. But that child—she is like nothing you have ever seen before. She wields power that, given the chance to grow, will wreak havoc upon all you hold dear._

_What do you mean?_ Ben grated out, finally breaking his internal silence.

 _Are you sure you wish to hear the truth? Perhaps when I tell you, you will wish not to know._ His master sounded suddenly exhausted.

 _Tell me!_ Ben demanded, shaking with pent up rage and fear.

_Very well, then. Very well. The girl Rey holds a great darkness within her. One day she will walk the path of the fallen. If you allow her to live, she will become the greatest of all of the Sith—more powerful than Darth Vader and Darth Sidious. She will be unstoppable. And she will destroy everything you love._

_No!_ Ben raged. _You lie! She knows nothing of the dark. She's—she's—_

 _Excellent at hiding her true nature,_ Snoke finished for him. _I know, Ben. And I am sorry—I hoped to spare you this pain. It is clear that you are quite fond of the child, but she cannot be allowed to—_

 _You won't touch her,_ Ben snarled. _I won't let you. I'll die before you lay a finger on her._

Snoke's response was a drawn-out exhale of despair. _It will be difficult indeed, to convince you,_ he finally admitted. _I had hoped to avoid showing you, but it seems I am left no choice._

* * *

Darkness closed over Ben's vision as quickly as turning out the lights.

_Somewhere, there was a fire. The red light glowed on broken timber and flickered in the shallow depths of the puddles that Ben's feet splashed through. It was raining at the same time that the world was burning, and he couldn't get his bearings._

_The humming swish of a saber was his only warning, and he flung up his own weapon—clutched in his hand, he realized suddenly—to block a blow from his left. Swiveling, he was nearly blinded by the glare of the flames rising before him. The temple—the Jedi temple was burning. And standing silhouetted before it, a glittering emerald saber in hand, was Rey._

_It took him a moment to recognize her. She was taller. And older. She looked like a woman, a girl no longer, and even in the half light Ben was taken aback by her beauty. She was fiercely beautiful, dangerously beautiful, and as she stepped towards him and flung the momentum of her shoulders into another blow, he was barely able to dodge in time. She came on rapidly, her saber a tongue of flame that hissed and spit sparks in the downpour. Their weapons collided in a flurry of strikes and parries._

_Ben wasn't sure whether he was controlling his own body, or merely watching._

_A step back, and his foot found nothing but slick stone. He slipped and threw out an arm for balance._

_Rey's blade cut upwards in a blaze of light that turned his vision white and—_

_—he plunged backwards into cold dark water. Waves crashed over and around him as he floundered helplessly. Something crashed into his back and he clung to it, dragging himself upwards. Leaving the water behind he found himself standing in the wreckage of an old ship. The air felt heavy with ghosts as he staggered away from the water and turned down an empty corridor, tilted off-kilter and filled with dark pools in which floated the abandoned masks of Stormtroopers._

_His breath came in ragged gasps as he moved quickly, trying to avoid glancing at the skeletons that filled the ancient tomb._

_At last he broke into the light of a circular viewport, before which stood a crumbled throne. The place reeked of darkness in a way that he had never before experienced._

_The whisper of feet on wet metal alerted him to another presence, and he spun around, reaching for a saber that wasn't at his hip._

_His blood went cold._

_Rey stood before him, but she wasn't Rey. Her angular cheeks were accentuated by the weak glow of pale light through the viewport. She was older again, and still beautiful, but gone was_ his _Rey, replaced by a creature wrapped all in black with twin blades of red flickering at her side. She smiled at him tauntingly, and her teeth were filed to points._

_Ben stumbled back and fell through darkness, twisting in a desperate attempt to land on his feet. He spun and spun through the night, with nowhere to grab hold. He didn't even know if he had hands, or feet. He was detached, unbound, and when he opened his eyes, all he could see was his own glassy gaze staring back at him, utterly blank. A wail of despair ripped through his consciousness and he was thrust into the dark once more—_

"Enough," Ben snarled out loud, shoving Snoke's vision away. He realized with a shock that he was trembling. His hands were shaking, and his legs felt unable to support his weight. He sank to the ground.

 _You see?_ Snoke whispered. _She is as I have told you._

 _It can't be,_ Ben thought. _No. No no no._

 _Yes,_ said Snoke. _You see, Ben, I was only trying to protect you._

 _She—she can't be,_ he pleaded. _It's a mistake—somehow you've got it wrong. She's—she's—she would never—_

 _You saw it with your own eyes,_ Snoke said. _The girl will rise, and she will destroy you. She will take pleasure in it. She is broken inside, and nothing will stop her unless you act now._

 _I can't,_ Ben thought. _I won't._

_You must._

Ben stared down at his hands, trembling in his lap, and tried to imagine them dark with Rey's blood. His stomach lurched violently at the thought and he tipped forward, heaving bile until there was nothing left.

 _You said that the dark isn't evil,_ he protested. _There is darkness in me too. Perhaps we are two of a kind, she and I? We can rule together—bring order—_

 _You have a generous heart, young Solo,_ Snoke said. _You may be willing to rule at her side, but trust me—she will be utterly consumed. Her need for power will be so great that the day will come when she will not be able to bear the impediment that you provide. She will turn on you, do not doubt it. Just like your parents. Just like Skywalker._

Ben shivered. His Rey? Cutting him down with a ruby-red blade that spat tongues of fire? His heart clenched. _There must be another way,_ he protested. _I can speak with her—make her see sense. It doesn't have to be like this._

_There is no other way. When I found you, I saw what all masters live to see—raw, untamed power! I knew at once that you would do truly extraordinary things. But power comes with a price—and this is the price that you must pay. Allow the girl to live, and you will know nothing but suffering. And even worse—you will watch her descend into madness as her reason is stripped away by darkness. You will watch her lose herself until there is nothing left but a shell—a shell that will be your downfall._

Ben bit into his cheek until the sharp tang of blood replaced the taste of sick on his tongue. He realized with a shock that there were tears coursing down his cheeks. Snoke's vision flashed through his mind's eye again—Rey's flashing sharp teeth, her dark, impenetrable gaze. Something vital was gone from her. Snoke was right—whatever shadow she would turn into, it would not be _his_ Rey.

And wouldn't it be the ultimate act of irony? After eighteen years of solitude, he had called upon the last vestige of hope in his heart to trust another. Would there not be some sort of poetic justice were he to fall at her hand?

 _Perhaps it would be easier to die,_ he thought bitterly, forgetting to shield the thought from Snoke.

 _And then who would protect your precious Rey from a fate worse than death?_ Snoke asked. He paused to let the words work their way into Ben's screaming mind. _Go to Skywalker's study. He too, has sensed the stirring of darkness in the galaxy. He is a fool—an old fool—and he knows not for what he looks. He fails to see her before him, but I tell you now—go there. Find the truth, my apprentice. And once you have it in hand—that incontrovertible proof that the darkness is rising—I will help you to overcome your weakness._

_I will help you to kill the girl._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Okay, I am SO sorry. The last several months have been really hectic for me. Life has just been crazy (good, but crazy). My laptop was having some issues, so I couldn't write for a while. I had this chapter almost entirely written and ready to upload, and then my laptop broke AGAIN, plus I started school and also moved. I also became a little frustrated by the fact that I'd messed some plot things up/left stuff out/didn't plan as well as I wanted to, and so I felt like it wasn't coming out quite the way I hoped it would. But I've convinced myself that this just means it will need major edits at some point in the future (maybe after I finish it)! Anyways, I had to step away for awhile and regain my passion for the story, but I want to apologize for leaving you all hanging for so long. I'm not sure if anyone is even still following this story :( but if you are, thank you so much for bearing with me in this long hiatus.
> 
> Also please don't hate me for the contents of this chapter. Will hopefully be updating again in the next couple days to make up for it--stay tuned! And happy holidays to you all :)


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